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A General HISTORY OF THE STAGE, From its Origin in GREECE down to the preſent TIME. WITH THE MEMOIRS of moſt of the principal PERFORMERS that have appeared on the ENGLISH and IRISH STAGE for theſe laſt Fifty Years. WITH Notes, Antient, Modern, Foreign, Domeſtic, Se⯑rious, Comic, Moral, Merry, Hiſtorical, and Geographical, containing many Theatrical Anec⯑dotes; alſo ſeveral Pieces of Poetry, never before publiſhed.

Collected and Digeſted by W. R. CHETWOOD, Twenty Years Prompter to his Majeſty's Company of Comedians at the THEATRE-ROYAL in Drury-Lane, London.

—All the World's a Stage,
And ev'ry Man and Woman, merely Actors.
SHAKESPEAR.

LONDON: Printed for W. OWEN, near Temple-Bar, M, DCC, XLIX.

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TO DAVID GARRICK, Eſquire, J. LACY, Eſquire, JOHN RICH, Eſquire, and THOMAS SHERIDAN, Eſquire, PATENTEES and MANAGERS OF THE THEATRES-ROYAL IN DRURY-LANE, COVENT-GARDEN, and SMOCK-ALLEY.
GENTLEMEN,

TO your Cenſures I commit the following Piece, ſince you are all the proper Judges of my Tryal. If I am condemned, I ſhall receive my Sentence without Murmuring; and, if acquitted, with ſincere Thanks: But as every Offender would find ſome Pretence to mitigate his Crime, I will only put [] you in mind that I have march'd under all your Banners in many Winter Colds and Summer Heats, and given Proofs of my Conduct, if not of my Courage, and have diſciplin'd ſome of your Troops. Tho' my Enemies have beat me to the Pit (as Brutus ſaid), yet, thank Heaven! ſome few Friends have interpos'd, and prevented my falling in: There is a Conſolation in Innocence that is our beſt Shield.

I am bad at Compliments, but I wiſh you all the Succeſs your Merits deſerve; Copy the Roman Roſcius (tho' a Hea⯑then) while you live; and, when you die, it may be ſaid of you as the noble Cicero aſaid of that celebrated Actor:

[] Quis noſtrum tam animo agreſti ac duro fuit, ut ROSCII morte nuper non commoveretur? qui, cum eſſet ſenex mortuus, tamen propter excellentem ar⯑tem, ac venuſtatem, videbatur omnino mori non debuiſſe.

Which of us all would be ſo unpo⯑liſhed and obdurate, as not to be ſen⯑ſibly moved with the Death of RO⯑SCIUS? Who, tho' dying in Old Age, yet his excellent Art, and ſweet Manner of Deportment, influenced every one to wiſh him immortal.

With this I end, and take Leave to ſubſcribe myſelf,

Your moſt Obedient, Humble, and Reſpectful Servant, W. R. CHETWOOD.

THE PREFACE.

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A PREFACE is Part of the Habit to a Book, and no Author can appear full⯑dreſs'd without it: 'Tis a Cockade to an Of⯑ficer, a Noſegay to a Lawyer, a Patch or a Fan to a fine Lady, or, a Ribband to her Lap-Dog.

If I ſhould tell my Readers, I am prevailed upon with great Intreaties from my Friends to publiſh this Piece, I ſhould embark with a Falſ⯑hood (for it is my own Free-will, Act and Deed); and I would willingly have my Readers believe I publiſh nought but Truth. My Cargo is genu⯑ine, and I have taken up but little on Credit.

If the good Reader ſhould find better Scraps of Rhyme than my own (which I preſume will not be over-difficult), I have given them di⯑ſtinguiſhing Marks, that there may be no Doubts on that Account.

The numerous Notes I have ſqueezed in, are meant to divert; if I loſe my Aim, I ſhall con⯑tent myſelf with conſidering, I may be but one among ten thouſand that have been miſtaken.

I have unnumbered Thanks to many in this Kingdom, and in particular to a young Gentleman whoſe Good-nature has been indefatigable in my Intereſt. The other a Gentleman eminent in the [] Law, who has made my Cauſe his own. It gives me great Concern I am not permitted pub⯑licly to own their unbounded Goodneſs and Generoſity, ſince ſuch Sterling Friends are but ſeldom met with by Wretches in Misfortune.

I am Unfortunate I own, but (as Oroonoko ſays) not aſhamed of being ſo. I bear all with Patience and Chearfulneſs; which I find has occaſion'd the following Flight of Poetry from a Friend. I know Authors often write to them⯑ſelves; yet I'll aſſure you, on my Veracity, it is not the Caſe here; tho' I muſt allow a little Vanity in my Compoſition makes me willing to inſert it.

Integervitae, ſceleriſquepurus. Hor. Ode XXII.
SAY, fair Content, lov'd Goddeſs, ſay,
How ſhall I find thy ſoft Retreat;
Where ſhall I ſeek thy Halcyon Seat,
Or trace thy ſacred Way?
Love pointed out a pleaſing Scene,
Where nought but Beauty could be found,
With Roſes and with Myrtles crown'd;
And nam'd thee for its Queen.
Deluſion all! a ſpecious Cheat!
At my Approach the Roſes fade;
I found each Fragrance quite decay'd,
And curs'd the fond Deceit!
[]
At Courts I've ſought, where Splendor ſhone,
Where Pomp and gilded Cars reſide;
'Midſt endleſs Hurry, endleſs Pride;
But there thou waſt unknown.
Yet in the Captive's dreary Cell,
Lodg'd with a long-experienc'd Sage
(With thee, thou CHIRON of the Stage)
The Goddeſs deigns to dwell.
Integrity, and Truth ſerene,
Have eas'd the Labours of the Breaſt,
And lull'd the peaceful Heart to reſt,
'Midſt Perfidy and Pain.
A Soul, like thine, diſrob'd of Guile,
In native Innocence elate;
Above the keeneſt Rage of Fate,
Can greet IT with a Smile.

I would wiſh with Horace,

—Nec turpem ſenectam
Degere—

‘To paſs declining Years without Reproach;’

But that I find impoſſible; Falſhood and Fraud are the Products of the World, and grow ſpon⯑taneous. But no more than this; I forgive my Enemies, and ſhall ever cheriſh the Memory of my Friends. I muſt ask Pardon for naming Mr. Barrington in this Theatre, and Miſs Bel⯑lamy in Covent-Garden; the Goodneſs of them both have often eas'd an aching Heart.

A General HISTORY OF THE STAGE.

[1]

THE STAGE is almoſt as old as the ſacred Inſpiration of the Muſe; ad⯑mir'd, when at Nurſe, and even in its Infant Prattle, pleaſing: Born in Greece, and nouriſh'd at Athens. A merry Author ſays, in a Prologue,

Theſpis, the firſt Profeſſor of our Art,
At Country Wakes ſung Ballads in a Cart.

And tho' Bacchus is allowed to be the Father, yet all Nations, antient and modern, eſteem'd it to be a ſober and inſtructive Entertainment.

The early Stages were, indeed, no more than native Turf, or Sod; and what was firſt exhibited, of a Piece, ſimple Paſtoral Songs, ſometimes mix'd with Scandal or Abuſe, and, may be, home Truths; like the Terrae Filius at Oxford, or the blazoning Peccadillos of two [2] opponent Members ſetting up for the ſame Borough. Yet, from theſe Seeds of Satire, we owe a Juvenal, Perſeus, Horace, and Petro⯑nius, and, indeed, the whole Race of Heroic, Epic, Dramatic, and Paſtoral Poets and Po⯑etry; your Spondees and Dactyls, the Buſkin and Sock, the Laurel and Bays.

From theſe Turf Stages, the Players, ſuch as they were, mounted a Cart, or ſome ſuch Vehicle, and began to travel Bag and Baggage, perhaps like the Picture of the Itinerants in Scarron's comical Romance. Hear what Ho⯑race ſays, in Latin:

Ignotum Tragicae genus inveniſſe Camoenae
Dicitur, & plauſtris vexiſſe Poemata Theſpis:
Quae canerent agerentque peruncti faecibus ora.
Poſt hunc perſonae pallaeque repertor honeſtae
Aeſchylus & modicis implevit pulpita tignis;
Et docuit magnumquae loqui, nitique Cothurno.

But for fear ſome People may underſtand as little Latin as myſelf, take the Senſe in the following Engliſh.

a Theſpis, the firſt that did ſurpriſe the Age
With Tragedy, ne'er trod a decent Stage;
But in a Waggon drove his Plays about,
And ſhew'd mean antick Tricks to pleaſe the Rout:
His Songs uneven, rude, in ev'ry Part;
His Actors ſmutted, and the Stage a Cart.
[3]
Next b Aeſchylus did greater Art expreſs,
He built a Stage, and taught them how to dreſs;
In decent Motion he his Parts convey'd,
And made them look as great as thoſe they play'd.
CREECH.

The firſt Theatre in Athens was built, by the Directions of Aeſchylus, at the public Charge. It was a wooden Pile, yet very ſpacious. But at the Repreſentation of one of the Tragedies compos'd by Aeſchylus, according to Suidas, the Building gave way, by the monſtrous Weight of 20000 Spectators, and many were kill'd and maim'd. To prevent ſuch fatal Ac⯑cidents for the future, the City order'd one more magnificent to be erected, intirely built with Stone, capable of holding half the Inhabitants without the former Danger: Some Authors ſay of Marble, ſurpaſſing, in Elegance, the Temples of their Gods. It conſiſted of two Parts, the Scena, and Cavea: The Scena, that Part which form'd the Stage, and other Conveniencies be⯑longing to it; the upper Part for their Scenes and Machinery, which were generally flat Cur⯑tains, with all the Variety of Painting, let oc⯑caſionally down to vary the Proſpect, and ma⯑nage [4] the Machinery; as Lee intimates, in the Tragedy of Oedipus:

O! that, as oft I have at Athens ſeen
The Stage ariſe, and the big Clouds deſcend.

The Cavea was the Place where the Spectators were ſeated: The under Part of the Stage was form'd for raiſing any thing particular for the different Performances, where were alſo placed the brazen Tubes for Thunder, and Utenſils for Lightning, and many other Con⯑veniencies, according to Graevius:

With brazen Thunder, forked Lightning hurl'd,
That blazing ſtream'd, to fright the mimic World.

They had alſo different Thunder, for good or bad Omens, according to Athenaeus:

Auſpicious Omen rends the Womb of Night,
And forked Lightning flaſhes from the Right.

And again,

Ill-Omen'd Lightning has the Welkin cleft,
And rolling Thunder bellows from the Left.

It may well be aſk'd by Numbers, If theſe Theatres were ſo large and ſpacious, what ſort of Theatrical Performers muſt thoſe diſtant Ages produce? They muſt either have Stentro⯑phon Voices, or their Auditors moſt delicate auricular Faculties. No; in my Opinion the [5] Senſes of Hearing and Seeing were much the ſame as now: But as to the Voice, that, indeed, doubtleſs, wanted Aſſiſtance; which to help, they had Coverings to the whole Head and Face, and over the Face a Maſk, with a Mouth only, to ſtrengthen the Sound of the Voice; in my poor Opinion, wretched Aſſiſtance! Where were the Eyes and Muſcles of the Countenance, to command, implore, exult, upbraid, conſent, refuſe, and all thoſe different Paſſions that agitate the Mind, wherein the Eyes are the Index? Theſe Maſks were made to cover the Head, as was ſaid before, adorn'd with Hair proper to the Character the Actor was to repreſent upon the Stage. Madam Da⯑cier has given an engrav'd Specimen of ſeveral Maſks us'd on the Roman Theatre, in her Tranſlation of Terence, which ſhe procur'd in an ancient Manuſcript of that Author's Works. The Romans follow'd the Greeks in their Drama; ſo, we may be aſſured, theſe Helps came from Athens to Rome. But as the Voice was to be mo⯑dell'd, ſo was the Perſon; therefore the Cothur⯑nus, or Buſkin, was invented, not like our mo⯑dern Greek or Roman Buſkin, but an Elevation of Perſon, half a Yard, or ſo, to emulate the Size of Immortals, or earthly Giants, and He⯑roes; like our waggiſh Boys, appearing upon Stilts. But the Cothurnus was only made uſe of in Tragedy to ſtep ſtately; for if they had hurry'd, they might have been in ſome Danger of kiſſing the Ground: Neither could they, I ſuppoſe, pay Homage to their Monarch, or [6] their Miſtreſs, tho' perhaps, in thoſe Days, Kneeling was neither a Mark of Submiſſion, or Adoration, at leaſt among the Greeks. But thus are their Actors pictur'd out by many Au⯑thors. Cornelius Nepos tells us, moſt of the Per⯑formers on the Grecian Theatres were the chief of the Nobility, Perſons of great Learning and Dignity, Poets, Orators, and Hiſtorians; even Kings did not diſdain to appear on the Athe⯑nian Stage. But, what is moſt ſurpriſing, theſe monſtrous Piles of Buildings were ſo contriv'd, that two of theſe large Theatres could turn, join, and form an Amphitheatre for the hunting wild Beaſts, &c.

Caſaubon, in his Deſcription of the Splendor of Rome, ſays, that Curio, a Roman Knight, to entertain the People, built two ſpacious The⯑atres in ſuch a Manner, Back to Back (if it may be ſo term'd), firſt for the Hiſtriones c, or Actors, to perform in the Morning; in the Afternoon they were mov'd, to meet each other, and form one ſpacious Amphitheatre, where the Combats of Gladiators and Wild Beaſts were perform'd. But when we conſider the Greek and Roman Engines of War, the Turres d, and a whole Catalogue of others, the Wonder will ceaſe.

[7] The Athenian Theatre was, beyond all doubt, the primal and eldeſt Child of the Drama; and, conſequently, muſt have the earlieſt of the Dra⯑matic Poets, and moſt in Number. We have not many more of the Roman Dramatic Bards, after naming Seneca efor Tragedy, and Plau⯑tus f, with Terence g, for Comedy, and this laſt borrowed from the Greek of Menander. While, among the Grecians, we have this Me⯑nander, [8] h, Aeſchylus, Sophocles i, Euripides k, and Ariſtophanes l, the firſt and laſt for Co⯑medy, the other for Tragedy; not forget⯑ing Lycophron m. Therefore we may thank Athens n for her Schools of Science and [9] Arts, whoſe flouriſhing Branches by degrees ſpread over the now learned World, as Horace writes in his Epiſtle to Auguſtus Caeſar:

Graecia capta ferum victorem cepit, & artes Intulit agreſti Latio.

Greece conquer'd, did her Conquerors o'ercome, Poliſh'd the Rude, and ſent her Arts to Rome.

[10] The Socci is no more than we ſay in Eng⯑liſh (Seck), and uſed in Comedy only; For Tragedy, with the Chorus, and Comedy, were a long time the Greek and Roman Entertain⯑ments. The Chorus might, indeed, be term'd Interludes, tho' their Subſtance were moſtly relative to the Story, as Thoughts of the fore⯑going [11] Subject of the Scene, by Standers-by, or Over-hearers. Yet theſe, by degrees, melted away, and Mimes or Pantomimes were inſtituted in their room. Some of our Engliſh Authors have their Chorus after the antient Manner, viz. Shakeſpear in his Henry V. and Winter's Tale; Milton in his Samſon Agoniſtes; Sandys in his Chriſt's Paſſion; and the late Duke of Buckingham in his two Tragedies from the Julius Caeſar of our Shakeſpear, and others. The Mimes and Pantomimes crept in, and ſhov'd out theſe antient Chorus's; ſome were looſe and wanton Mimics, that the Roman Luxury too well lik'd; others were more de⯑cent, who by Action and Geſture could de⯑ſcribe a Story without ſpeaking, in all its Va⯑riety of Paſſions. One of theſe was ſo excellent, that when a foreign Prince came to Rome in the Time of Nero the Tyrant, at his Depar⯑ture, he ask'd no other Favour of the Emperor, but that Mime, whom he had ſeen perform, for this Reaſon; that as he had many barba⯑rous Nations bordering round him, of different Speech, this Man by his Action could be an excellent Interpreter, whoſe Meaning was ſo well underſtood without the Uſe of Speech. Mimes and Pantomimes are generally the ſame thing; but to tranſlate them Buffoons (as Coo⯑per in his Dictionary) is ſomething too low a Meaning. I ſhall leave the Antients to reſt quietly in their Graves.

The Drama in England, and all over Eu⯑rope, began as meanly as its firſt Original in [12] Greece or Rome, and our Poetry as crude. The firſt Play, at leaſt that has appeared in Print, was with this Title, Gammer Gurton's Needle, a Comedy, acted at Chriſt's-College, Cambridge. Writ by Mr. S. Maſter of Arts. And an art⯑ful Piece it is. Gammer Gurton has loſt her Needle, and truly great Hunt is made about it; her Boy is ſent to blow the Embers in order to light a Candle to help the Search. The damn'd Witch of a Cat is got in the Chim⯑ney, with her two fiery Eyes. The Boy cries, It is the Devil of a Fire; for when he puffs, it's out; and when he does not, it's in. Stir it! cries Gammer Gurton. The Boy does as he's bid. The Fire, or rather the Cat, flies among a Pile of Wood; the Boy cries, The Houſe will be burnt! All Hands to work. The Cat is diſco⯑ver'd by a Prieſt (having a little more Cunning than the reſt). This is the Epiſode. The main Plot and Cataſtrophe are full as good. Gammer Gurton, it ſeems, had the Day before been mend⯑ing her Man Hodge's Breeches. Now Hodge in ſome Game of Merriment was to be pu⯑niſh'd by three Slaps on the Bum, by the brawny open Hand of one of his Fellow Bumpkins. His Head is laid down in Gam⯑mer Gurton's Lap; the firſt Slap is given—Hodge, with great Exclamation, bellows out, Oh! He declares his Grief! and ſearching for the Cauſe of his Pain—O, happy! the Needle was found bury'd up to the Eye in the Poſterior of poor Hodge! It was pull'd out with great Re⯑joicing [13] by all but the Delinquent, who expreſs'd ſome Pain; and ſo ends this excellent Comedy.

But Time has poliſh'd this Rudeneſs, and true Engliſh Tragedy and Comedy is allow'd to ſtand in the utmoſt Perfection. Yet Bunglers will ſtill be dabbling. Every polite Nation delights in the Drama. The heavy Dutch have Plays in their own Language, but they are generally plann'd from the Old Teſtament. I had a De⯑ſcription of one given me, from an Engliſh Spectator. It was the Story of Abraham ſa⯑crificing his Son Iſaac. But Abraham was arm'd with a Gun inſtead of a ſacrificing Knife. The Angel, to prevent the Gun from firing, ſprinkled ſome warm Water, a Diſtillation of its own making. The Ram in the Brake (which was repreſented by Boughs of Laurel) was a plump fat Dutchman (marry'd I ſuppoſe) with fair brow-ſpread Antlers on his Head, fix'd very artificially; and all the Decorations were of a Piece. But they have a handſome regular Theatre at the Hague, occupy'd by a French Troop of Comedians. Even the diſtant Chineſe have very fine Theatres. I ſaw, in my Youth, a Chineſe Performance at Canton, where the Scenes, Machines, and Habits, were ſur⯑priſing and magnificent; but not underſtand⯑ing the Language, the Glare growing familiar, as Addiſon ſays by Beauty,

Faded on the Eye, and pall'd upon the Senſe.

Du Halde in his Hiſtory of China has tranſla⯑ted [14] into French ſeveral of the Chineſe Drama⯑tic Authors; but they ſeem plann'd moſtly a⯑like—A Prince ſecreted in his Youth by an evil Miniſter, and counterplotted by a good one: The Child at laſt brought from its Ob⯑ſcurity, marry'd to a great Princeſs, and begins his happy Reign. But theſe illuſtrious Ladies have but little to ſay for themſelves, no more than the loſt Daughters in the Comedies of Te⯑rence, found again by the Parents, and mar⯑ry'd to the Son of a Friend. Tavernier in his Travels to the Eaſt-Indies informs us, that Theatres have been many Ages the Diverſion of the Chineſe, and more magnificent than thoſe of Europe. He relates a long Deſcription of them; and the more to illuſtrate that Account, gives you the Plan and Picture of one en⯑grav'd, with the Scenes and Machines. The People of America had their Theatre, accord⯑ing to Acoſta a. But what need we travel ſo far [15] from Home? 'Tis Time to come back to our own Country, with this Obſervation, that po⯑lite Nations allow the Theatre a wiſe and inſtructive Amuſement. Even the Apoſtles did not diſapprove of Plays, and no doubt read them; for St. Paul, in his Firſt Epiſtle to the Corin⯑thians, quotes Menander the Greek Comic Poet, and ſets down his own Phraſe in his own Words, xvth Chapter, 33d Verſe, Be not de⯑ceiv'd—Evil Communication corrupts good Man⯑ners. Arts, Sciences, and even Trade, gene⯑rally flouriſh with the Theatre, and, I think, Religion and Politeneſs, and why may not the Drama be a great Mark of a civiliz'd Nation? The Greeks and Romans were in their higheſt Glory when the Stage flouriſh'd. I need not ſay, that the Theatre in England came in with the Reformation, and the long-reign'd Queen Elizabeth, whoſe great Learning not only made her give it Encouragement, but Sir Roger Naunton tells us, that great Queen tranſlated one of the Tragedies of Euripides from the [16] original Greek for her own Amuſement. Our immortal Shakeſpear met Reward from that illuſtrious Princeſs, and her Influence brought forth his inimitable Genius to that high Luſtre, where it will ſhine unrival'd to after Ages, never once clouded but in the Time of Fa⯑naticiſm, and drear Darkneſs of Canting and Hypocriſy. France was poring in the thick Miſt, till Hardy their firſt Poet ſhewed Dra⯑matic Light; then all Branches of Learning began to ſhine, and ſpread their Luſtre, im⯑prov'd their Arts and Arms, and warm'd their wide-ſpreading Nation to Glory, when Conqueſt waited on their Monarch, and Vic⯑tory cover'd him with Laurels, till check'd by the Britiſh Lion. Ambition in great Minds ſtands rank'd in the Line of Virtue; but I think to bound it is more truly a Virtue, as ſweet-tongu'd Waller writes:

If the ſucceſsful Troublers of Mankind,
With Laurel crown'd, ſo great Applauſe do find;
Shall the vex'd World leſs Honour yield to thoſe,
That ſtop their Progreſs, and their Rage oppoſe?
Next to that Pow'r which does the Ocean awe,
Is to ſet Bounds, and give Ambition Law.

But let me ſet Bounds to myſelf.

As the Stage flouriſh'd in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth and King James the Firſt, with ſuch excellent Dramatic Poets, viz. Shakeſpear, Ben Johnſon, Maſſenger, and many others, we may be well aſſur'd the Actors did not fall much [17] ſhort of the Writers. Nature is the ſame in every Age. Taylor, Burbidge, Lowen, Hem⯑mings, Condel, Allen, Maſon, Field, Tarlton, and others that performed in the Plays of Shakeſpear, Johnſon, &c. have their public Praiſes in ſeveral cotemporary Authors. Mr. Marlow in his Preface to the Jew of Malta (a Play acted before King Charles the Firſt and his Queen, at Whitehall, in the Year 1633.) writes, "that Mr. Maſon and Mr. Taylor perform'd their Parts with that Excellence, that it was beyond conceiving." Sir Richard Baker in his Chronicles of England, at the latter End of Queen Elizabeth, after giving an Account of the eminent Perſons in that Reign, writes thus of three Actors: "Excellency in the meaneſt Things deſerves Remembrance. Richard Burbidge, and Edward Allen, two ſuch Ac⯑tors, as no Age muſt ever look to ſee the like: And, to make their Comedies com⯑plete, Richard Tarlton, for the Clown's Part, never had his Match, nor never will have." What this Writer calls the Clown's Part, were ſuch as Launcelot in the Merchant of Venice, Touchſtone in As you like it, the Fool in King Lear, and Parts of the Kind, which required Perſons of infinite Humour.

Mr. Thomas Heywood was not only an excel⯑lent Actor, but a very great Author, and Dra⯑matic Poet. I have read all his Works that are extant, and in my poor Judgment he may be accounted the firſt of the ſecond-rank'd Poets in the Reigns of Queen Elizabeth and [18] King James the Firſt. I do not think it will diſpleaſe the Reader, to give him a Catalogue of his great Labours.

1. Robert Earl of Huntingdon's Downfal, 1601.

2. Robert Earl of Huntingdon's Death, 1601. Theſe two Pieces are the Hiſtory of Robin Hood.

3. The Golden Age, 1611.

4. The Silver Age, 1613.

5. The Brazen Age, 1613.

6. A Woman kill'd with Kindneſs, 1617.

7. If you know not me, you know no-body. This is the Hiſtory of Queen Elizabeth, with a Print of that great Queen in the Front, and the Spaniſh Armada deſtroy'd by her Majeſty's Fleet, 1623.

8. The Royal King, and Loyal Subject, 1627.

9. The fair Maid of the Weſt; or, a Girl worth Gold. Firſt Part. 1631.

10. The fair Maid. Second Part. 1631.

11. The Ducheſs of Suffolk.

12. The Iron Age. Firſt Part. 1632.

13. The Iron Age. Second Part. 1632.

14. The Engliſh Traveller, 1633.

15. A Maidenhead well loſt, 1634.

16. The four London 'Prentices, with the Conqueſt of Jeruſalem, 1635.

17. A Challenge for Beauty, 1636.

18. Fair Maid of the Exchange, 1637.

19. The wiſe Woman of Hogſdon, 1638.

20. The Rape of Lucretia, 1638.

21. Love's Miſtreſs, 1640.

[19] 22. Fortune by Land and Sea, 1655.

23. Lancaſhire Witches. The Date of this Play was wanting.

24. Edward the Fourth. In Two Parts. The late Mr. Bowman informed me, he was very well aſſured by Mr. Cleveland, a Poet of the laſt Age, this double Play was performed on two ſucceeding Nights, and had a very great Run (a Theatrical Term).

Several modern Authors have borrow'd from Mr. Heywood. I ſhall only mention two; Shadwell in his Lancaſhire Witches, and Field⯑ing in his Intriguing Chamber-Maid, from the Engliſh Traveller; or rather Renarde the Frenchman tranſlated it into French from the Engliſh, and our Engliſh Privateer retook it back again. Though it is very poſſible, all three might have an Eye upon the Moſtella⯑ria of Plautus. But this is ſailing a little out of my Latitude. Yet we may be very well aſſured, this Poet muſt be in great Reputa⯑tion, by the Number and Succeſs of his Dra⯑matic Works, when Skakeſpear and Fletcher were the reigning Monarchs of the Stage, not forgetting Ben Johnſon and Maſſenger. And I repeat it here again, the Stage Performers muſt certainly be great in thoſe Times, ſince few of our Poets have out-ſhone thoſe that went before them, more eſpecially Shakeſpear and Johnſon. This laſt had no other Epitaph than O RARE BEN JOHNSON! and Burbidge, the Tragedian, by way of Eſtimation, Exit [20] BURBIDGE. Mr. Richard Allen, another great Actor, founded and endowed a College pat Dulwich in Surry, at his own private Ex⯑pence.

[21] We have had great Generals, knowing Ad⯑mirals, worthy Diſcoverers of new Worlds, as well as illuſtrious Poets, in the two laſt Ages; and why may not their cotemporary Theatrical Performers be as great in their Way? An Author, who wrote about Forty Years paſt, ſpeaks thus of Mr. Betterton: ‘In the Tragedy of Hamlet Prince of Den⯑mark, Mr. Betterton performed the Part of young Hamlet. Sir William Davenant q [22] having ſeen Mr. Taylor, of the Black-Friers Playhouſe, act this Part (who was inſtructed by the Author Shakeſpear), remembred him ſo well, that he taught Mr. Betterton, in every Article; which, by his exact Per⯑formance, gained the Actor Eſteem and Reputation ſuperlative to all the other Players.’ This Account makes it plain Taylor muſt be very great in the Part, ſince Betterton, his Imitator, performed it ſo well. And Betterton, in the Memory of many, was [23] eſteemed the greateſt Actor of his Time. Read what the great Addiſon writes of him, who may be allowed a Judge of the Drama, as well as the Performers.

Such an Actor as Mr. Betterton ought to be recorded with the ſame Reſpect as Ro⯑ſcius among the Romans. The greateſt Orator (Tully) has thought fit to quote his Judgment, and celebrate his Life. Roſcius was the Example to all that would form themſelves into proper and winning Beha⯑viour: His Action was ſo well adapted to the Sentiments he expreſſed, that the Youth of Rome thought they wanted only to be virtuous to be as graceful in their Appearance as Roſcius. The Imagination took a lovely Impreſſion of what was great and good; and they who never thought of ſetting up for the Art of Imitation, became themſelves inimitable Characters. There is no human Invention ſo aptly calculated for the form⯑ing a free-born People, as that of a Theatre. Tully reports, that the celebrated Roſcius uſed frequently to ſay, the Perfection of an Actor is, only to become what he is doing. I have hardly a Notion, that any Performer of Antiquity could ſurpaſs the Action of Mr. Betterton, in any of the Occaſions in which he has appeared on our Stage. The wonderful Agony which he appeared in, when he examined the Circumſtance of the Handkerchief in the Part of Othello; the Mixture of Love that intrudes upon his [24] Mind upon the innocent Anſwers Deſdemona makes; betrayed in his Geſture ſuch a Va⯑riety, and Viciſſitude of Paſſion, as would admoniſh a Man to be afraid of his own Heart, and perfectly convince him, it is to ſtab it, to admit that worſt of Daggers, Jealouſy. Whoever reads in his Cloſet this admirable Scene will find, that he cannot (except he has as warm an Imagination as Shakeſpear himſelf) find any but dry, in⯑coherent, and broken Sentences. But a Reader, that has ſeen Betterton act it, ob⯑ſerves there could not be a Word added; that longer Speeches had been unnatural, nay, impoſſible, in Othello's Circumſtances. Mr. Rymer, the greateſt Critic of the Age he lived in, in his Diſſertation on Tragedy, ſpeaks thus on Mr. Hart:

The Eyes of the Audience are prepoſ⯑ſeſſed and charmed by his Action, before ought of the Poet can approach their Ears; and, to the moſt wretched of Characters, Hart gives a Luſtre which dazzles the Sight, that the Deformities of the Poet cannot be perceived.

Now, after the Opinions of two ſuch emi⯑nent Judges, why may we not ſuppoſe there were as great Stage Performers in Times paſt, as the preſent, without leſſening the Merit of thoſe that ſurvive? If, in my ſimple Judg⯑ment, I allow the preſent equal to the paſt, I cannot allow that they exceed them, no more, perhaps, than the next Race of Theatrical Per⯑formers [25] will excel many that now grace the Stage. Excellency, in this Science, does not always run in the Blood, or, like Eſtates, fol⯑low hereditary. They muſt be born Actors, as well as Poets and Painters: Yet there are many Dabblers in all three; but, alas! how few come to Perfection! We very rarely ſee Brothers or Siſters, Sons or Daughters. or any of the relative Line (though they ſometimes take up the Calling, becauſe one of the Race flouriſhes in the Theatrical Field) ſucceed in their Attempts. A Monarch may give Rib⯑bands, Titles of Honour, or add to his Peers, but no Power but that immortal Goddeſs Na⯑ture can form a perfect Actor: Yet ſome even of theſe forget their Inſtructreſs, and Faults invade them to ſully their Perfections. Every Performer on the Stage ought to take Virtue for his Guide. Precepts from the Pulpit will not have all their Efficacy from a Monitor without Morals. A Diſcourſe on Sobriety, on a Sunday, would loſe ſomething of its In⯑tention from an Orator known to baſte the Bottle about all the paſt Saturday Evening till the Noon of Night, as Shakeſpear ſays. The Blind may hear, the Dumb and Deaf ſee, but every Senſe muſt be perfect to inſtruct, and be inſtructed. Performers, of both Sexes, ought to imitate thoſe virtuous Characters they re⯑preſent upon the Stage; the Dignity of the Theatre, then, might emulate that of Athens. 'Tis not the Buſineſs brings Scandal to the Performers, if they will take care to avoid [26] drawing it upon themſelves. I have known the Managers of Drury-Lane, and many of the reſt of the Fraternity, meet Regard, and even Reſpect, from Perſons of the firſt Rank, from their proper Behaviour; and I am con⯑vinced every one, with the like Conduct would meet with the like Treatment from People of Senſe and good Breeding; but the Two-legg'd Brutes of the Creation will be ever incorrigible: A decent Dreſs will become their Station; but Pride ought to be as far di⯑ſtant from them, as the licenſed Inſtructors of Divine Inſtitution: For if Theatrical Perform⯑ers are Servants to the Public (as an eminent Actor publicly declared), they ſhould never attempt to out-dreſs their Maſters. Veluti in Speculum (behold as in a Glaſs), the Motto over the Front of Drury-Lane Theatre, will ſerve both Auditors and Actors; and, I think, carries a more inſtructive Meaning than the other, of Vivitur Ingenio (we live by Wit), which only relates to the Stage. A bad Painter is ſeldom copy'd, and Excellence is only worth Imitation; Dreſs beyond Station is Pride, and Pride very often brings Self-puniſhment. I have known Fidlers and Dancing-maſters wear lac'd Cloaths, but they ſeldom improv'd any thing but the Taylor's Bill, and as much laugh'd at as the Baboon I have often ſeen in a lac'd Coat and a Bag-wig in the Parade at Bartholomew-Fair—Yet I have ſeen gold Fringe on ſilk Veſts, with white ſilk Stockens, worn by the Dancers on the Ropes at Sadlers-Wells, [27] that have bow'd and ſcrap'd in that rich Dreſs, picking up Halfpence thrown down by Coblers and Link-Boys. Such Sights put me in mind of the painted Eggs rof Muſcovy, they don't reliſh the better for their Colour⯑ing, and gaudy Outſides. Even Roſcius a⯑mong the Romans (though the Actors did not keep up their Reputations equal to thoſe of Athens) was mark'd out as a Pattern for the Youth of Rome to follow in Decency of Dreſs, and Morals. Tully ſays, Cum artifex ejuſmodi ſit, ut ſolus dignus videatur eſſe, qui in ſcena ſpectetur; tum vir ejuſmodi eſt, ut ſolus dignus videatur qui eo non accedat.—‘So excel⯑lent an Artiſt, that he ſeem'd the only Per⯑ſon to adorn the Stage; and yet, in all other reſpects, ſo complete in every Grace and Virtue, that he ſeem'd the only Perſon that ſhould not take up with ſuch a Profeſſion.’

[28] Moral Virtue, and a decent Behaviour, will gain Eſteem from People of every Rank, will add Weight to the Characters they repreſent, and even may atone for want of Excellency.

Leſſons for the Stage may be convey'd, in one reſpect, ſtronger than from the Pulpit, if the Audience were attentive as they ſhould be at Church: For a Play well wrote, and well perform'd, where Virtue ſuffers, or meets its juſt Reward, muſt have ſtrong Force upon the Mind, where the Eye is ſuppos'd to view the very Perſons in the real Circumſtances of Hiſto⯑ry. What then will add to this Imagination? Why, the Performers to be as blameleſs as hu⯑man Nature will allow. I remember a virtuous Actreſs (or one reputed ſo) repeating two Lines in King Lear, at her Exit in the Third Act,

Arm'd in my Virgin Innocence I'll fly,
My Royal Father to relieve, or die,

receive a Plaudit from the Audience, more as a Reward for her reputable Character, than, perhaps, her Acting claim'd; when a different Actreſs in the ſame Part, more fam'd for her Stage-Performance than the other, at the Words Virgin Innocence, has created a Horſe⯑laugh (no Reflection on the Audience, ſince a Theatrical Term), and the Scene of generous Pity and Compaſſion at the Cloſe turn'd to Ri⯑dicule. Here the Audience are diſconcerted, and the Reality of the Subject before them loſes much of its Force, with the Imagination [29] debilitated, if not turn'd another Way. On the other hand, indeed, if a Perſon who acts Iago, be ſuſpected to wear a Heart that way inclin'd, he appears ſtronger in that Character, and meets with an Applauſe that condemns him. We may find, by theſe Examples, Vir⯑tue is of ſome Uſe upon the Stage, and would be more ſo, if more practis'd. To give In⯑ſtructions to an Actor, is a very difficult Taſk; for if much is wanting, it is not worth while to give any. A rough Diamond may be poliſh'd, but few Pebbles are worth cutting. After ma⯑ny Requiſites for the Stage, bad Action will even cauſe a good Figure to appear aukward; and tho' there may be Rules for Action, yet Nature is the beſt Teacher; and if an Actor of good Underſtanding is truly poſſeſſed with his Character, the true Action will involunta⯑rily occur. I remember Mrs. Porter, to whom Nature had been niggard in Voice and Face, ſo great in many Parts, as Lady Macbeth, Alicia in Jane Shore, Hermione in the Diſtreſt Mother, and many Parts of the Kind, that her juſt Action, Eloquence of Look and Geſture, mov'd Aſtoniſhment! and yet I have heard her declare, ſhe left the Action to the Poſſeſ⯑ſion of the Sentiments in the Part ſhe per⯑form'd. I have known ſome tolerable Actors, as to Countenance and Elocution, that have mortify'd both by the Badneſs of Action, more eſpecially the proper Uſe of their Hands: Had they worn each in a Scarf, they had been much more tolerable, as it is the moſt expreſ⯑ſive [30] Part in the Action of the Body, ſo as Shakeſpear ſays, like an ill-ſheath'd Knife, it will moſt hurt its Maſter. I think Quintilian ſays, all the Parts of the Body aſſiſt the Speaker; but the Hands ſpeak without a Tongue, ſupplicate, threaten, call, diſmiſs, provoke, ſhew every Paſſion of the Soul. The Hands are the ge⯑neral Language of Mankind, and we need no Grammar but Nature to underſtand it. So by their aukward Uſe upon the Stage, we may turn the Serious into Ridicule. Mr. Booth would often regret the want of Opportunity for an Actor to continue in a graceful Attitude, which Nicolini the Italian Singer was ſo ma⯑ſterly familiar with, between the Retornels of a Song, and other Occaſions: Yet when Mr. Booth had the leaſt Opportunity, he ſhew'd he only wanted it. I remember in the 5th Act of Othello, while he is liſtening to Emilia's ſpeak⯑ing to Deſdemona, after ſhe is ſuppos'd to be ſtrangled, he ſuited his Attitude and Coun⯑tenance to the Circumſtances of the Scene, that I have not Art to deſcribe, but the treble re⯑peated Applauſes of the Audience, while he was ſilent, ſpoke ſuch high Approbation, that Miſs Santlow (afterwards Mrs. Booth) us'd to ſay, She thought the Audience were pleas'd poor Deſdemona was ſtrangled out of the Way

Of all the various Paſſions of Grief, a manly Sorrow is the moſt difficult to expreſs. And of all the Actors I have ever yet ſeen, I muſt be pardon'd if I give the Preference to [31] Mr. Wilks. No Heart, that was capable of being touch'd, but muſt have ſympathiz'd at his Manner of ſpeaking one Line in the Orphan to Monimia, in the Fifth Act.

My fatal Love, alas! has ruin'd thee!

And yet I have heard it ſpoke when it has given me no more Concern, than if a Voice had pierced my Ear with

Kettles or Pots to mend! Old Braſs to mend!

If moving the Paſſions is a great Art in Acting, I think Mr. Wilks was Maſter of that Art. There was no avoiding feeling his Diſtreſs in another Line, when he performed the Part of the Royal Merchant in the Beggars Buſh, a Comedy of Fletcher's. The Character is noted for beneficent Charity; and, when his flinty⯑hearted Creditors had juſt preſs'd him for Pay⯑ment, Clauſe his old Beadſman (tho' his Fa⯑ther in Diſguiſe) comes as if to beg his uſual Charity, when the Merchant replies with ſuch a Tone that ſinks into the Soul:

Clauſe, I pray thee leave me; for, by my Troth, I have nothing now to give thee.

Compariſon is the true Touchſtone of Excel⯑lence, and brighten'd Braſs by a falſe Light might be taken for Gold, if not try'd.

[32] In the 4th Act of Macbeth, when he is told by Lenox of the Loſs of his Wife and Children, his Mixture of Sorrow and manly Grief at

He has no Children! Butcher! If he had,
The Thought of them would ſure have ſtirr'd Remorſe!

drew Tears from almoſt every Eye, when if he had blubber'd like a School-boy whipt, the touching Scene would have rais'd Laughter, in the place of Grief. And yet ſome particular People will not allow Mr. Wilks's Excellence to ſtand in Tragedy. If, indeed, he had attempted the Parts of Cato, Lear, Macbeth, Henry the VIIIth, Melantius, and a countleſs Catalogue of others in the ſame Claſs, I might have join'd in their Opinion; but while there is a Juba, an Edgar, Macduff, Buckingham, and Amin⯑tor, in the ſame Plays, I don't deſire to ſee a better Performer in that Caſt of Playing than Mr. Wilks: In Hamlet he pleas'd all the Au⯑dience; and if the beſt Judges laugh'd at his Parts in Comedy, I can't conceive they have ſhed more Tears ſince his much-lamented Death, at any of the above-mentioned Plays. I remember a few Years ago a Diſpute a⯑roſe between Two Theatrical Gentlemen upon this Stage, concerning the Propriety of a par⯑ticular Speech; the one, to enforce his Argu⯑ment, told the other, he never heard it ſpoke otherwiſe on the Engliſh Stage. Pho, reply'd the other Diſputant, that was the old Way of [33] Acting! A truly great Actor, that ſtood by, reply'd, Learn the old Way firſt, and when you are perfect, then begin a new one, if you can find it out: Art may invent Faſhions in our Dreſs; but Nature is the ſame as the Habits of the Turks, which they have never yet alter'd. The Cloaths of the firſt Ottoman Prince is the Model of the Emperor that now reigns, and, as the divine Pope paints the unalterable Goddeſs,

Unerring Nature, ſtill divinely bright,
One clear, unchang'd, and univerſal Light;
Life, Force, and Beauty, muſt to all impart,
At once, the Source, and End, and Teſt of Art.

I have known many Actors with excellent Voices; ſo I have often known common Bal⯑lad-ſingers in the Streets with ſtrong Lungs and Voices; but, for want of a Manner with Judgment, murder an excellent Song, and yet extort Praiſe from their Auditors. A Sow⯑gelder's Horn will pierce the Ear, and alarm all the Dogs in the Pariſh; but I believe moſt People would rather hear a Trumpet. The Voice, like an Inſtrument of Muſic, muſt be put in Tune, and, if managed by a ſkilful Actor, whoſe Mind feels the Paſſions, will ſend out the proper Tone, when a Bungler in Muſic does but harſhly grate upon the Ear. But who is ignorant of this? If this is the Diſeaſe of the Stage, where is the Remedy? It muſt cer⯑tainly be in the Hands of the Manager, tho' no very eaſy Taſk. The Circumſtances of a [34] Theatre very often oblige the Directors to thruſt Perſons into Characters too weak to ſup⯑port the Weight of them: Vanity is blended in moſt human Compoſitions, and the Stage is ſeldom free from it; therefore, when an Actor is once in Poſſeſſion of a Part (Male or Female), they think it a very great Hardſhip to give it up to a better Performer. There are a much larger Number of common Soldiers in an Army than commanding Officers, and we have ſome few Inſtances of a Soldier riſing to Preferment by Merit, whilſt others grow grey with a Muſ⯑quet upon their Shoulders; and yet, at ſome Time or other, a Soldier may do the Duty of a Corporal, if he is indiſpoſed, or out of the Way: But that Exigence does not give him a Title to the Poſt. I remember an Actor was taken into the Theatre in Drury-Lane, for playing the Part of Caeſar Borgia in a private Play; and when Mr. Booth was ſtudying the Part, he thought it the greateſt Oppreſſion (as he call'd it) that could be thrown upon him: Nay, after Mr. Booth had perform'd the Part, with univerſal Applauſe, ſeveral ſucceſſive Nights, this Perſon ſaid, nay, bound it with an Oath, that Booth did not know how to ſpeak a ſingle Line: Yet this Perſon was a Man of Senſe and Learning. But there are more Requiſites to make a fi⯑niſh'd Actor: Therefore, as they do not al⯑ways judge candidly for themſelves, it is requi⯑ſite they ſhould have one of unbyaſs'd and ſu⯑perior Knowledge to judge for them. When ſuch Actors above-mention'd take Parts, as they [35] thruſt themſelves into for their Benefits, as is too often the Caſe (and I think ought not to be al⯑low'd), it proves, as Shakeſpear ſays,

—Like a Player,
Bellowing his Paſſion, till he break the Spring,
And his rack'd Voice jar to the Audience.

There are too many Performers, of both Sexes, that are fond of chooſing capital Parts for their Benefits, that ſit upon them

—Like a Giant's Robe
Upon a dwarfiſh Thief:

And, at the ſame Time, excuſe themſelves from Rehearſals (that ſhould prepare them to act with ſome Decency, at leaſt), to cultivate their Intereſt; and, when they come to perform at Night, only take Shame to themſelves, tho' they oft diſconcert others; and may truly ſay,

Like a dull Actor, now I have forgot
My Part, and ſtop ev'n to a full Diſgrace.
That's villainous, and ſhews a moſt pitiful Ambi⯑tion in the Fool that uſes it. SHAK.

The noble Gift, of Playing well, is not given to all that play: Yet as, in building of Houſes, there muſt be provided many Hands, even to the carrying the Morter; a Morter-carrier muſt be had, as well as the reſt of the Hands in the Work: All are not equal to every Part in the Building, no more than every Actor is fit for [36] every Part. If they attempt to wade out of their Depths, they are in great Danger of drowning; and, as our immortal Poet writes,

As in a Theatre the Eyes of Men,
After a well-grac'd Actor leaves the Stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next;
Will think his Prattle to be tedious.

Yet I have known many Perſons belonging to a Theatre, not eminent in any ſuperior Part, ne⯑ver offend, through their private Characters in Life. A modeſt Behaviour is commendable in every Station, but much more obſerved in Per⯑ſons of a public Profeſſion, where the Eyes of Thouſands are upon them. Confidence, Pride, and Vanity, will draw down Contempt and Ri⯑dicule from Superiours, with Diſregard from all.

Of all the Cauſes which conſpire to blind
Man's erring Judgment, and miſguide the Mind;
What the weak Heart, with ſtrongeſt Byaſs, rules,
Is Pride, the never-failing Vice of Fools. POPE.

Humility, Affability, and Good-nature, will claim Regard from all Ranks; and if any Stains are thrown upon the Profeſſion, ſuch Qualifica⯑tions will wipe them off: Yet I think there are no Spots but what they themſelves throw upon it. We are apt, even in ſtrange Company, to out with ſome Theatrical Quotation, that ſel⯑dom fails of declaring what Buſineſs we follow. What need a Taylor talk of his Yard and [37] Sheers, a Smith of his Forge, or a Brewer of his Grains? Let the Buſkin and Sock be left in the Theatre. I know an eminent Actor, in⯑vited to dine in a mix'd Company of both Sexes, of Condition: When the Dinner ſeem'd a little tedious, before it made its Entrance, a Gentleman, one of the Invited, ſtarts up, and cry'd, Zounds, Mr.—, give us the Ghoſt in Hamlet, by way of Grace! The Maſter of the Houſe reply'd, there was no Meat he could give him was worth one Speech; beſides, he did not invite Mr.—to pay for his Dinner that Way. It was only in Retaliation for the Supper he gave him the Night before, on the Stage, where no Cook but himſelf could dreſs ſuch a Diſh of black Broth (meaning Othello). So, by your Rule of Courteſy, if I had invited Fauſan, I ſhould have deſired him to dance the Buffoon before Dinner. This was the Height of Civility to one, and a ſufficient Rebuke to the other. The Fop (for he was no leſs), to plead his Excuſe, told the Company, he had been many Times with ſeveral Actors, who took as much Plea⯑ſure to ſpeak Speeches, as he to hear them; and he did not doubt but they were People of great Judgment; for they generally own'd, other Performers did not act ſo well as them⯑ſelves. Yes, reply'd the Maſter of the Houſe, Self-praiſe is always to be believed; yet I have known a Sign-painter criticize upon Raphael. Wit will be often entertaining, but a ſmall Por⯑tion of one's own (if we had it) is better than a Cart-load of other Peoples: Yet Quotations [38] from the Drama may ſhew ſome Judgment, when properly apply'd, and not too often. The Author of a Comedy, call'd The Play's the Plot, ſhews the Strolling Players, not im⯑properly, by their Style.

It is ſomething ſurpriſing to me, that where Vice, in every Shape, with Folly, is expos'd daily to their View, Performers on the Stage ſhould have any Faults, or, at leaſt, Art enough to diſguiſe them ſo well, that few ſhould find them out. To hide the Paſſions Nature has ſown in the Seeds of the human Race, will prevent their Growth, and, in Time, deſtroy them. May we not learn Virtue, and avoid Vice, by the inſtructive Leſſons of the Drama? What premeditated Murderer would not feel Com⯑punction, or, perhaps, Repentance, at the Speech of Torriſmond to the Queen in the Spa⯑niſh Fryar, when ſhe has given Commiſſion to the Murder of the good King Sancho?

Think, timely think, on the laſt dreadful Day!
How will you tremble there to ſtand expos'd,
And foremoſt in the Rank of guilty Ghoſts,
That muſt be doom'd for Murder! Think on Murder!
That Troop is plac'd apart from common Crimes:
The Damn'd themſelves ſtart wide, and ſhun that Band,
As far more black, and more forlorn, than they.

The Queen's Anſwer.

'Tis terrible! it ſhakes! it ſtaggers me!
I knew this Truth, but I repell'd the Thought.
[39] Sure there is none but fears a future State:
And when the moſt obdurate ſwear they do not,
Their trembling Hearts belye their boaſting Tongues.

We may find, by this laſt Speech, the former had its deſired Effect; ſince the Queen re⯑pented her impious Intentions.

In Rule a Wife we have another, upon the crying Sin of Adultery, which I ſhall ſet down as another Memento.

The Duke of Modena tries all his Arts to debauch Margarita, the Wife of Leon, a Wo⯑man of a vicious Inclination, who conſented to marry Leon merely as a Tool, that ſhe might indulge her Paſſions; but by the Spirit and Con⯑duct of her Huſband was reclaim'd. When the Duke, by the Appointment of the worthy Leon, permits their meeting, after a ridiculous Fright from a Drunkard in the Cellar, which the Duke takes for a Spirit, he cries,

O! I am moſt miſerable!

Margarita, the Wife, anſwers,

You are, indeed!
And, like a fooliſh Thing, have made yourſelf ſo.
Could not your own Diſcretion tell ye, Sir,
When I was marry'd, I was none of yours?
Your Eyes were then commanded to look off me,
And I now ſtand in a Circle, and ſecure.
Mark me but this, and then, Sir, be moſt miſerable,
'Tis Sacrilege to violate a Wedlock:
You rob two Temples, make yourſelf twice guilty;
You ruin her's, and ſpot her noble Huſband's.

[40] We might go through the ſacred Decalogue, with the Aſſiſtance of thoſe Flowers in the ſpa⯑cious Fields of Poetry.

‘The Stage (ſays the Female Spectator), by its Inſtitution, is the School of Virtue, and the Scourge of Vice; and when either of theſe noble Purpoſes is defeated, it is no Wonder that Perſons of true Senſe and Honour chooſe to abſent themſelves, and oblige their Fami⯑lies to do ſo too.’ So reaſonable an Enter⯑tainment, as the Drama in its Purity, muſt be, in ſome ſort, a Promoter to Virtue; therefore every Manager of a Theatre ſhould make it his Study to exhibit no other Pieces but what aim to that End; and, by Degrees, throw off the looſer Drama, and conſtitute, in its place, thoſe that the wiſeſt, and moſt virtuous, need not be aſham'd to partake of the innocent Amuſe⯑ment. I do not pretend to ſet up for a Monitor; but every Stage Performer would find his Ac⯑count in reforming the Stage, as well as them⯑ſelves. I do not mean this Admonition to any particular Theatre, but all in general, at Home and Abroad; for our Plantations in America have been voluntarily viſited by ſome Itine⯑rants; Jamaica, in particular. I had an Ac⯑count, from a Gentleman who was poſſeſs'd of a large Eſtate in the Iſland, that a Company, in the Year 1733. came there, and clear'd a large Sum of Money; where they might have made moderate Fortunes, if they had not been too buſy with the Growth of the Country. They receiv'd 370 Piſtoles the firſt Night, to [41] the Beggars Opera; but within the Space of two Months they bury'd their third Polly, and two of their Men. The Gentlemen of the Iſland, for ſome Time, took their Turns upon the Stage, to keep up the Diverſion; but this did not hold long; for, in two Months more, there were but one old Man, a Boy, and a Woman of the Company, left: The reſt died, either with the Country-Diſtemper s, or the common Beve⯑rage of the Place, the noble Spirit of Rum⯑punch, which is generally fatal to New-comers. The ſhatter'd Remains, with upwards of 2000 Piſtoles in Bank, embark'd for Carolina, to join another Company at Charleſtown, but were caſt away in the Voyage. Had the Company been more bleſt with the Virtue of Sobriety, &c. they might, perhaps, have liv'd to carry home the Liberality of thoſe generous Iſlanders.

[42] Even the Wicked have ſome Regard to Vir⯑tue, are often aw'd by Perſons that are reputed to wear that amiable Character. Perſons on the Stage, which is too liable to Inſults, eſcape them there, unleſs, as in a Crowd of Quarrel⯑lers, where a Looker on may meet with an ac⯑cidental Stroke. But theſe Theatrical Squabbles are too often ungenerous from the Audience, or, I ſhould ſay, from a ſmall Part of the Au⯑dience; for a Dozen, when they are pleas'd to take it into their Heads, ſhall diſturb the Whole, and diſconcert the beſt Actors in the World. Is not this a groſs Affront upon the reſt? What Right have I to rob my Neigh⯑bour of his Money, and Satisfaction? He pays the Price to be entertain'd for two or three Hours, and, perhaps, would be as well con⯑tented with a well-acted Play, as a Dinner. Now, if I ſhould come to you, Sir, be you who you will, while you are ſat down to your Meal at a Tavern, turn the Drawers down Stairs, throw your Proviſion about, prevent your eat⯑ing your Dinner with any Satisfaction; I ſhould think you a very good-natur'd Gentleman, if you only thruſt me out of your Room; becauſe I ſhould imagine I deſerv'd worſe Treatment.

I remember, above twenty Years paſt, I was one of the Audience, at a new Play: Before me ſat a Sea-Officer, with whom I had ſome Acquaintance; on each Hand of him a Couple of Sparks, both prepar'd with their offenſive Inſtruments vulgarly term'd Cat-calls, which they were often tuning, before the Play began. [43] The Officer did not take any Notice of them till the Curtain drew up; but when they conti⯑nued their Sow-gelder's Muſic (as he unpolitely call'd it), he beg'd they would not prevent his hearing the Actors, tho' they might not care whether they heard, or no; but they took little Notice of his civil Requeſt, which he repeated again and again, to no Purpoſe: But, at laſt, one of them condeſcended to tell him, If he did not like it, he might let it alone. Why, really, reply'd the Sailor, I do not like it, and would have you let your Noiſe alone; I have paid my Money to ſee and hear the Play, and your ridiculous Noiſe not only hinders me, but a great many other People that are here, I believe, with the ſame Deſign: Now if you prevent us, you rob us of our Money, and our Time; there⯑fore I intreat you, as you look like Gentlemen, to behave as ſuch. One of them ſeem'd mollified, and put his Whiſtle in his Pocket; but the other was incorrigible. The blunt Tar made him one Speech more. Sir, ſaid he, I adviſe you, once more, to follow the Example of this Gen⯑tleman, and put up your Pipe. But the Piper ſneer'd in his Face, and clap'd his troubleſome Inſtrument to his Mouth, with Cheeks ſwell'd out like a Trumpeter, to give it a redoubled, and louder Noiſe; but, like the broken Crow of a Cock in a Fright, the Squeak was ſtopt in the Middle by a Blow from the Officer, which he gave him with ſo ſtrong a Will, that his Child's Trumpet was ſtruck thro' his Cheek, [44] and his Companion led him out to a Surgeon; ſo that we had more Room, and leſs Noiſe; and not one that ſaw or heard the Affair, but what were well pleaſed with his Treatment; and, notwithſtanding his great Bluſtering, he never thought it worth his while to call upon the Officer, tho' he knew where to find him. It is certainly a Mark of Cowardice to inſult in public Company, or ſtrike a Man who has his Hands bound; and yet I have known a poor Actor pelted by Puppies, that would run away at the Sight of a Stage-Foil, that has neither Edge or Point.

As Cheats to play with thoſe ſtill aim,
That do not underſtand the Game;
So Cowards never uſe their Might,
But againſt thoſe that muſt not fight. Hud.

Actors in France meet with Reſpect (I mean if they will endeavour to deſerve it, which in my Opinion they may eaſily do); and are ac⯑ceptable in the Company of Rank and Figure in that polite Nation; and tho' the Clergy ſcrupled to give Moliere athe Rites of the Church at his Death, yet Lewis the XIVth of⯑ten convers'd with him in his Cloſet, as well as in Public.

[45] I ſhall not ſay much more on this Subject, and it may be, I have ſaid too much already. For I am convinced, Nil ſub ſole novum, no not even in Faſhions; for what we receive for new, are only the old ones taking their Courſe over again. The Stage is the Epitome of the great World, as Boileau has ſaid long ago.

Le monde à mon avis eſt comme une Grand Theatre, &c.
[46] The World, in my Opinion, is a Stage,
Where, in deceiving others, all engage:
Hence the diſcerning Eye can often ſcan
The Player widely diff'ring from the Man:
The Blockhead, prating from another's Book,
The Scholar apes with ſupercilious Look;
And the ſly Knave, by putting Virtue on,
Deceives the Virtuous till they are undone.

'Tis very poſſible Boileau might have Shake⯑ſpear in view, in theſe Lines, from that of An⯑tonio's Speech in the firſt Act of the Merchant of Venice;

I hold this World but as a World, Gratiano,
A Stage, where ev'ry Man muſt play his Part, &c.

The French have borrowed from us, as well as we have from them. Le Comte d' Eſſex is not only plann'd upon Banks's Earl of Eſſex, but has many Speeches for ſeveral Pages together tranſlated. The beſt modern Tragic Poet France has produced ſince Corneille and Racine (Monſieur a Voltaire), has in Oedipus follow'd [47] our Engliſh Play of that Name, and ends his third Act with a verbal Tranſlation from Nat. Lee.

To you, juſt Gods, I make my laſt Appeal:
Or clear my Virtues, or my Crimes reveal, &c.

His Zaire looks after Othello in its Jealouſy, and all the reſt of his Plays ſeem to be of Engliſh Extraction.

Now let us leave Greece, Rome, France, Bri⯑tain, and the reſt of the World, and retire to this Kingdom, where no Snake in the Graſs will riſe to bite the unwary Traveller, no Blind-worm or [48] Adder to hiſs us into Fears, Viper or Toad to moleſt our Eyes, or noiſome Spider to ſpread her Venom, which, according to ſome of the antient Iriſh Bards, were baniſh'd the Iſland many Ages before St. Patric a.

[49] This Kingdom of Ireland is one of the laſt in Europe where eſtabliſhed Theatres were erected; yet I am aſſur'd one of the firſt, whoſe Bards or Poets have celebrated in Verſe the illuſtrious Actions of their Monarchs, nor any Nation in the World, where Poetry and Poets were in ſuch high Eſteem. Every antient and noble Family had one in their Houſhold, and their Kings their Poet Laureats, as we have in England, but long, long before the Engliſh invaded Ireland. The Poets had their Seats in their great aſſembled Triennial Coun⯑cils, which you may find by the following Lines tranſlated from the original Iriſh by the ſame Hand.

Once in three Years the great Convention ſat,
And for the public Happineſs debate.
[50] The King was ſeated on a Royal Throne,
And on his Face majeſtic Greatneſs ſhone.
A Monarch for heroic Deeds deſign'd
(For noble Acts become a noble Mind):
Around him, ſummon'd by his ſtrict Command,
The Peers, the Prieſts, and Commons of the Land:
The Bards, or POETS, are indulg'd a Place,
And Men of Learning the Aſſembly grace.
Here Love and Union ev'ry Look confeſs'd,
And Joy and Friendſhip beat in ev'ry Breaſt.
Juſtice, by nothing biaſs'd or inclin'd,
Is deaf to Pity, to Temptation blind;
For here with ſtern and ſteddy Rule ſhe ſways,
And flagrant Crimes with certain Vengeance pays;
Tho' juſt, yet ſo indulgently ſevere,
Like Heav'n, ſhe pities thoſe ſhe cannot ſpare.

A few Lines more of the ſame Author, and ſame Tranſlator, will tell you the Poet Lau⯑reat's Buſineſs at Court; for he was one of the ten Officers that attended the Kings of Ireland.

A Poet to applaud, or boldly blame,
And juſtly to give Infamy or Fame:
For without him the freſheſt Laurels fade,
And Vice to dark Oblivion is betray'd.

By theſe Lines we may gather, that their Poets were their Hiſtorians; and it may be ſuppos'd, if they had thought of the Drama, we might have had ſome elegant Tragedies handed down to us. But to proceed.

Mr. Ogilby the Maſter of the Revels in this [51] Kingdom (who had it from proper Authority) inform'd Mr. Aſhbury, that Plays had been of⯑ten acted in the Caſtle of Dublin when Blount, Lord Mountjoy, was Lord-Lieutenant here in the latter End of the Reign of Queen Eliza⯑beth. And Mr. Aſhbury ſaw a Bill for Wax Tapers, dated the 7th Day of September, 1601. (Queen Elizabeth's Birth-day) for the Play of aGorboduc done at the Caſtle, one-and-twenty Shillings and two Groats. But it is to be ſup⯑poſed they were Gentlemen of the Court that were the Actors on this Occaſion.

I cannot find any eſtabliſhed Theatre in Dub⯑lin till the Year 1635. when the Earl of Straf⯑ford was Lord-Lieutenant of this Kingdom, in the tenth Year of the Reign of King Charles the Firſt, John Ogilby, Eſq then Maſter of the Revels, under the Title of Hiſtoriographer to his Majeſty, and Maſter of the Revels in the [52] Kingdom of Ireland, and I believe the firſt that wore the laſt Title. This Theatre was built by his Directions in Warberg-Street, where the Company continued to act, till the unhap⯑py Rebellion broke out in the Year 1641 a. The Theatre was then ſhut up, by Order of the Lords Juſtices, ſign'd William Parſons, and John Borlace. We do not find any mention of a Theatre in Dublin, till the Year after the Reſtoration 1661. which was built on the Spot where the Theatre now ſtands in Orange-ſtreet, commonly call'd Smock-alley; how it came by the laſt Name, may be eaſily gueſs'd.

We find in the Year 1662. Pompey, a Tragedy acted at the Theatre in Dublin, tranſlated from the French of Corneille: It is wrote in Verſe by Mrs. Catharine Phillips (the fam'd Orinda) term'd by her cotemporary Poets the Engliſh Sappho. This Lady wrote another Play call'd Horace, taken from the ſame French Author, [53] but neither of them play'd in England, till af⯑ter her Death, which fell out in the Year 1664. in the 31ſt Year of her Age, of the Small-Pox. From this we may gather that ſhe reſided in Ireland, ſince both her Plays were acted in this Kingdom ſome Years before they were per⯑form'd in England.

The Theatre in Smock-Alley was ſo badly built, that in the Year 1671. ſome Part of it ſell down, when two were kill'd, and ſeveral ſorely maimed. We can give little Account of the Theatre here from this Time till after the Revolution; all that can be given will be noted in the Life of Joſeph Aſhbury, Eſq Playing was diſcontinued during the Troubles between King William and James the Second; but when quiet Peace was reſtored, the Theatre opened again with Othello Moor of Venice; the Part of Othello, by Mr. Wilks (See more of this in the Memoirs of that excellent Player). This Play was acted by Officers moſtly about the Caſtle, Mr. Aſhbury Iago only, for the Com⯑pany was not form'd till three Months after, when they began again with Othello, which was on March 23. 1691-2. the Day of pro⯑claiming the End of the Iriſh War. The Com⯑pany play'd on with Succeſs many Years, and I find by the Caſt of Sir George Etheridge's three Comedies, there has not been a better in all its Branches ſince, which I ſhall ſet down in proper Order, that the Reader may judge for himſelf. The Caſt of theſe three Plays I had [54] from the late well-received Comedian, Thomas Griffith, Eſq

The Comical Revenge; or, Love in a Tub.

She Wou'd if ſhe Cou'd.

[55]

The Man of Mode; Or, Sir Fopling Flutter.

Here we may ſee Meſſieurs Aſhbury, Wilks, Booth, Keen, Eſtcourt, Norris, Griffith, Bowen, Croſs, and Trefuſis, on one Stage at the ſame [56] Time in Dublin, moſt of them eminently great in their different Way of acting. For the Women, I know little of any but Mrs. Aſhbu⯑ry; yet I have been inform'd by Mr. Wilks, that Mrs. Knightly, Mrs. Hook, and Mrs. Smith, were very good Actreſſes in their different Parts. Mrs. Aſhbury is taken Notice of in the Memoirs of her Huſband. I will put down the Caſt of three Plays more in Year 1715. when I was firſt in this Kingdom, and ſhall begin with

Timon of Athens; or, the Man-Hater.

[57]

Thoſe with this Mark † were of the former Company.
TAMERLANE.

The Committee; or, the Faithful Iriſhman.

[59] Diſtinguiſhed Characters in Bills were not in Faſhion, at the Time theſe Plays were per⯑form'd; they were printed in Order according to the Drama as they ſtood, not regarding the Merit of the Actor. As for Example, in Mac⯑beth, Duncan King of Scotland appear'd firſt in the Bill, tho' acted by an inſignificant Perſon; and ſo every other Actor appear'd according to his Dramatic Dignity, all of the ſame-ſiz'd Letter. But latterly, I can aſſure my Readers, I have found it a difficult Taſk to pleaſe ſome Ladies, as well as Gentlemen, becauſe I could not find Letters large enough to pleaſe them; and ſome were ſo very fond of Elbow-room, that they would have ſhoved every body out but themſelves, as if one Perſon was to do all, and have the Merit of all, like Generals of an Ar⯑my; ſuch a Victory was gained by ſuch a King, and ſuch a Prince, while the other Offi⯑cers and Soldiers are forgot. But as Trim tells us in the Funeral, or, Grief A-la-mode, 50,000 of ſuch Raſcals as theſe will make an Alexander. I ſhall leave this laſt Quarter of a Hundred of Years to the Memory of others, that I may the ſooner come to the Concluſion of my little Hiſtory, and fall upon the Memoirs. I have told you the firſt Theatre was built in 1635. and the old Smock-Alley Houſe in 1661. and now I ſhall proceed to the reſt, as they ſtand at preſent.

In the Year 1732. a Theatrical Booth was erected by Mrs. Violante an Italian Lady, cele⯑brated for Strength and Agility, a Qualifica⯑tion [60] that does not render the Fair-Sex the leaſt more amiable; the Strength of the Limbs, which theſe Sort of Undertakers expoſe, in my Opinion, is ſhockingly indecent; but hers were maſculinely indelicate, and were of a Piece with the Features of her Face. I am informed, the ſhewing her Limbs did not meet with the Suc⯑ceſs in this Kingdom, as ſhe had found in her elder Siſter, England; that Lady's Children delight in ſuch Entertainments: Bull-baiting, Boxing, Bear-garden, and Prize-fighting, will draw to them all Ranks of People, from the Peer to the Pedlar: Our late Engliſh Gladiator, Mr. Figg, of Cutting-ſlaſhing Memory, made much private Emolument by his public Va⯑lour, more eſpecially in Linen a.

[61] But to Mademoiſelle Violante. She, finding her Tumbling tireſome, fell into Playing and Pan⯑tomime (another Diſgrace to the Drama). Mr. Barrington, Mr. John Morris, and, I think, Mr. Beamſly, Miſs Woffington, Miſs Mackay (now Mrs. Mitchel), and many others, came under her Directions, and play'd ſeveral Dramatic Pieces with Groteſque Entertainments, till ſtopt by the Lord Mayor of the City of Dublin; Mrs. Violante having no Sanction, or proper Au⯑thority, to exhibit ſuch Entertainments. The hPlace is put to another Uſe.

[62] I ſhall take Leave of Violante, and her Po⯑ſtures, and give it, as my own Opinion, that I think ſuch Diverſions are below the Dignity of the Stage, or Humanity. Where can be the Satisfaction, when Death and Danger attend it? I have the Fate of Lady Iſabella iever preſent to my Memory at the mentioning of ſuch dangerous Entertainments. I ſhould have told my Reader, that Mrs. Violante had let her [63] Booth to Mr. Luke Sparks, Mr. John Barring⯑ton, Miſs Mackay (now Mrs. Mitchel), for three Pounds per Week: The three mentioned Per⯑ſons, being all very young, fell deſperately in Love with the Dramatic Poets, and were re⯑ſolved to marry them, with their Poetical For⯑tune, that is, without a Rag to cover their Nakedneſs, or rather nothing but Rags; for their Scenes had ſhewed their beſt Days. How⯑ever, Cloaths were borrowed, ſome from Friends, and ſome to be paid for; and they began with a Comedy of Farquhar's, call'd The Inconſtant, or, The Way to win him; the three chief Parts being performed by the three adventurous Un⯑dertakers; viz.

Mr. Sparks (as having played before, in a Country Company) was the Manager. The Play was performed much better than was ex⯑pected, and their Company ſoon became more numerous, being join'd by others that look'd more to Profit than Pleaſure; for theſe three [64] Lovers of the Drama could play Heroes and Heroines, without eating; Love for the Sub⯑lime was enough for them: However, other People did not reliſh this Cameleon Diet, and hunger'd after ſomething more ſubſtantial; therefore reſolved upon Benefits, and gave the firſt to Miſs Mackay, in order to break the Ice. The Fop's Fortune was the Play, and ſhe then being a young promiſing Actreſs, ſeveral La⯑dies, of the firſt Rank, eſpous'd her Cauſe, and brought upwards of Forty Pounds to her Benefit. They might well ſay, with the Herald in the Rehearſal,

They had not ſeen ſo much the Lord knows when.

The Succeſs of this Benefit alarmed the Old Smock-alley Houſe, who applying to the Lord Mayor, he ſent Orders to forbid their Acting; and it was with much Difficulty they had Leave to play one more, which was, Woman's a Riddle, to a good Houſe,

And that the laſt.

This was the Spring from whence Ransford-ſtreet aroſe, out of the Power of the Lord Mayor of Dublin.

Ransford-ſtreet Theatre was built, and open⯑ed, for the firſt Time, under a Licence granted by the Right Honourable the Earl of Meath k, [65] being Part of his Liberties. The firſt Play that was performed there was, a Comedy call'd

LOVE for LOVE.
(The Company being under the Directions of Mr. Huſband.)

[66] I never ſaw this Theatre, but have been in⯑form'd, it was a very neat, compact Building, capable of containing an hundred Pounds, at common Prices, which they never raiſed, but at Benefits.

The Company performed here above a Year with tolerable Succeſs, ſometimes Neap, and ſometimes Spring-tides; but when Henry the Eighth, with the pompous Coronation, was exhibited at the Theatre in Aungier-ſtreet, they were almoſt forſaken; good Senſe with Shew, for once prevailed, which is not always the Caſe.

As Poverty is the Mother of Invention, all the Wit of the Company went to work, and, at laſt, produced a Mock Coronation, with leſs Expence than a Lady's Tail at Aungier-ſtreet Theatre. It was called the Beggars Coronation (and not unworthy that Title), in the Play of The Royal Merchant, or The Beggars Buſh; with the following Prologue, on the ſolemn Occaſion, uſhered in by this Preamble, in Print:

APROLOGUE ſpoke at Ransford-ſtreet Playhouſe, on the Revival of The Royal Merchant, or The Beggars Buſh; which was acted with the Mock Coronation, on the playing King Henry the VIIIth and Coro⯑nation in Aungier-ſtreet Playhouſe.

WELL, by this Time, your Eyes have ach'd with gazing
On Coronations, Maſks, and Sights no leſs amazing!
[67] Here, then, you come, unwilling to be pleas'd,
Longer than juſt your dazzled Sight is eas'd.
The Sun, 'tis true, will dim the ſtrongeſt Eye;
And Darkneſs, only, can new Force ſupply—
Yet you muſt own, that, had no Shew been there,
You'd been content to kill an Ev'ning here.
The Coronation made ſo great a Noiſe,
Had there been none, Harry had miſs'd your Voice;
Buffoon—Jack-pudding—Jobſon—Hob, con⯑ſpir'd,
In vain, to make the burleſque King admir'd.
He play'd it, tho', ſome ſay, with wond'rous Art!
His Belly—ſhook; and—that was all the Part.
Yet, faith, 'tis odd—But we ſurpriſe you more
Than Harry's Hoh! or Wolſey's envy'd Store.
Here honeſt Clauſe ſhall gain a Beggar's Crown,
Tho' Tyrants threaten, and proud Churchmen frown!
Each willing Subject his ſmall Tribute brings,
Abhorring Slav'ry, yet adoring Kings.
Clauſe, tho' a Beggar, 'midſt his Rags is free;
Henry's a Slave to Tyrants great as he.
How does their Splendor mock their wretched Fate!
They mourn in Pomp, and ſtarve in pageant State.
Like petty Kings, who Rome's Subjection own;
To feed its Pride, they hunger on a Throne.
If any here, with indigeſted Rage,
Will ſpeak malignly of our ſporting Stage,
As if, in Ridicule of Rites ſo known,
Sacred to Britain's Fame, and GEORGE's Crown,
We thus our Mockery of State purſue,
Let others our Deſign with Candour view,
[68] And own, if any Diſreſpect appears,
'Tis them we mock; be, then, the Cenſure theirs.

As the World is fond of Novelty (and this Mock Coronation appearing new), the Stream of Succeſs flowed upon them with a rapid Tor⯑rent, ſwelled their Pockets till they overflow'd their Banks, and water'd the Fields of many a Publican! Debts were cleared, and every ſingle Perſon might, fearleſs, look at the Dial on the Tholſel.

Their Succeſs went even beyond their Hopes, and Aungier-ſtreet ſuffered ſhort Allowance (as they ſay at Sea), becauſe the Current was turn'd another Way: Yet I find, by this Succeſs, all do not think alike.

King Henry the Eighth, with the Coronation, in the utmoſt Magnificence, was performed in the Year of his preſent Majeſty's Acceſſion to the Throne, at the Theatre Royal in Drury⯑lane, London: The Succeſs there was beyond the Bounds of Expectation; it was even added to every Play, as a Pantomime, &c. and exhi⯑bited, that one Seaſon, 75 Times.

The Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn Fields got up a Mock Coronation, as a Burleſque upon that in Drury lane; but the Audience took a different Turn to that in Ransford-ſtreet; for the poor Mock Peers and Magiſtrates were pelted off the Stage, in the utmoſt Contempt, and all their Study and Labour came to nothing.

However, this Mock Coronation fill'd Ranſ⯑ford-ſtreet Theatre, ſeventeen ſucceeding Nights: [69] But as Mountain-rivers ſoon overflow, they as ſoon ſink, and reſt in their natural Bed again: Ransford-ſtreet was too far out of the Way; therefore the Company, after three Years Occu⯑pation, forſook it. However, I ſhall ſubjoin a Couple of poetical Pieces of Poetry, occaſioned by the above Prologue: Wits are a Tribe like Jews, and one Production begets another. As every Line of Battle Ship has its own Chaplain, ſo every Theatre have their own Poets; and ſometimes, like Ragotin in Scarron, they may be found in itinerant Troops. The opponent Theatre produced one, ſpoken by Mrs. Bellamy in Boy's Cloaths, at a Time when an epidemic Cold had reigned greatly in Town.

Dear Ladies, may I periſh, but I'm proud
To find you all recover'd, and ſo loud.
Not one ſore Throat amongſt you now remains,
Of that vile Cold of which the Town complains:
And, faith, you'll anſwer for me, I'm ſincere,
When I profeſs I'm glad to ſee you here!
I found a Female Habit would not do,
And therefore try'd a Pair of Breeches too:
A ſpruce young Blade, well made, with ſuch Ad⯑dreſs,
Among you Belles may ſpeak with ſome Succeſs—
And I, who am a Woman—to my Coſt,
Know, by myſelf, what pleaſe the Ladies moſt—
In vain we ſtrive our Merit here to ſhow,
For ev'ry Night to Ransford-ſtreet you go;
Where painted Scenes, and tinſell'd taudry Dreſs,
Are only ſplendid Signs of Emptineſs.
[70] But this is Scandal; for all Dublin knows,
That Playhouſe deals not over-much in Cloaths.

Two Venders of the ſame Commodity will be a little too apt to depreciate each other's Goods; therefore the Poet drew his Pen in their De⯑fence, and furniſhed forth the following Pro⯑logue, ſpoke by Miſs Mackay, in the Character of Lady Townley, in the Provok'd Huſband.

As ſome poor 'Squire, to Country Quarters ſent,
His Credit gone, and all his Money ſpent;
A Swarm of Duns, each Morn, attend his Door,
Crying out, Money! Faith we're very poor.
Why ay! the 'Squire replies; but pray have Patience,
Six Months Arrears comes with my next Ac⯑quittance.
Juſt ſo I've told my Duns, this many a Day,
They'd all have Money when I got my Play t.
The other Houſe, we thank their honeſt Care,
Have, to their Coſt, engag'd the good Lord Mayor
To ſend us, as they thought—the Lord knows where!
Yet we'll forgive them, if they keep their Word;
But that is more than they can yet afford.
'Tis true, alas! we're ſcant in Cloaths, while they
Abound in more—than they can ever pay—
[71] Our Houſe is new—Thanks to our Benefactors u!
Nor do we envy thoſe enſlav'd Detractors:
They may get one, but Lord knows where get Actors w.

We may ſee, this laſt Bard did not take the leaſt Advantage of his Antagoniſt: Their Lines were exactly even, and eighteen Thruſts given on each Side, and therefore neither could claim the Conqueſt; tho', like Battles in Flanders, each Side claimed the Victory, and each Ge⯑neral put on the Wreath of Conqueror.

The Theatre in Aungier-ſtreet was built by the voluntary Subſcription of many of the illu⯑ſtrious Nobility and Gentry of the Kingdom: The firſt Stone was laid by the Duke of Dorſet, then Lord Lieutenant; but, I think, the Archi⯑tect had more View to the Magnificent, than Theatrical. The Audience Part is ornamented with rich Embelliſhment, that gives it a ſu⯑perb Countenance; but, no Diſparagement to the Architect in other Buildings, this might have been more convenient, with leſs Coſt. But I believe the Contriver had an Eye more to Ridottos, than the Drama: If ſo, indeed, his Intentions were anſwered; for, in that Shape, it may vie with that in the Hay-market in Lon⯑don. Thruſting my own Opinion, in this Man⯑ner, might have the Air of Preſumption, if my Employment and Obſervation had not [72] taken up full thirty Years of my Time: In other Buildings I would not pretend to give my Judgment on a Pigeon-houſe, or a Centry⯑box, or give Directions in erecting a thatched Cabin, or a Turnpike.

Aungier-ſtreet Theatre opened March the 9th, 1733-4. with the Comedy of The Re⯑cruiting Officer; the Parts acted as follows:

Theſe were the main Body of the Theatrical Army in its firſt March, tho' ſeveral Auxilia⯑ries join'd them afterwards.

The Theatre in Smock-alley awas built by a voluntary Subſcription. The Architect has [73] conſidered the Building more for the real In⯑tention of the Proprietors, I mean for Profit: The Cavea, or that Part where the Audience ſit, is much more convenient than that of Aungier-ſtreet, and will contain a fifth Part more in Number than the latter, altho' it does not appear ſo to the Eye: On the contrary, the Stage is more cramp'd for want of Room, which might have been otherwiſe at the firſt building.

When I came firſt from England, in the Year 1741. I brought over an experienc'd Ma⯑chiniſt, who alter'd the Stage after the Man⯑ner of the Theatres in France and England, and formed a Machine to move the Scenes re⯑gularly all together; but it is ſince laid aſide, as well as the Flies above, which were made as convenient as the Theatre would admit: However, the preſent Manager has form'd it as regular and convenient as the Spot would al⯑low of, decorated it with all the Elegance of the Theatres Abroad, with proper Scenery and Habits, that her elder Siſters in England need not bluſh at the Figure ſhe makes.

[74] This new Theatre opened with a Comedy call'd Love makes a Man; or, The Fop's For⯑tune:

The Parts played as follows;

But ſo eager were they to open (or to get Mo⯑ney), that they began to play before the Back-part of the Houſe was til'd in; which the Town knowing, they had not Half an Au⯑dience the firſt Night, but mended leiſurely by Degrees; where we ſhall leave them on the mending Hand, and walk to

CAPEL-STREET.

This Theatre was built, like an aggrieved People in the State of Rebellion, their Forces raiſed in a Hurry, neither well cloath'd, arm'd, or paid; their Fortifications ſo ſlightly thrown [75] up, did not promiſe a long Defence, though they had a Veteran at their Head, that might have taught them Diſcipline, had he taken pro⯑per Pains with his raw Soldiers; or rather, in⯑deed, had they been more capable of being taught: But this haſty Building was erected in the great Cauſe of Liberty!

The Love of Liberty with Life is giv'n,
And Life itſelf's th' inferior Gift of Heav'n.

This Company open'd under the Sanction of the Lord Mayor of Dublin, and call'd them⯑ſelves the City Company of Comedians. Their firſt Play was Shakeſpear's Merchant of Venice.

I ſhall leave the further Mention of this The⯑atre to the Memoirs of the worthy Projector of [76] it, Harlequin Phillips, and end with its Neigh⯑bour,

PUNCH's THEATRE.

O happy Manager! whoſe Servants never diſoblige, or contradict his Will! No cla⯑mouring for Parts, or Pay! No Envy reigns among them! No Sycophants to corrupt his Ears with Falſhoods, or cringing Flatterers to tickle his Vices, or ſwell his Pride and Vanity! But all obey him without Self-intereſt, or ever trouble themſelves whether they are naked, or cloath'd; or ever repine at the Succeſs of each other's Performance, or, like the Spaniards c, [77] lay Faults on the Indians, to cover their own Cruelty. Mr. Punch's Theatre has been built and occupy'd by theſe decent and well-be⯑hav'd Performers ſeveral Years. It goes by the Name of the firſt Founder, STRETCH, as the Coffee-houſes in London ſtill go by the Names of Tom's, White's, and Will's; tho' the Names of their preſent Maſters may be Jack, Sam, or Ned: However, it intimates, that the firſt were eminent in their Stations; and it expreſſes Modeſty in the Survivors, in owning it, by continuing their Names, rather than their own.

Thus has this opulent City of Dublin every innocent Diverſion, that may unbend the Mind, equal to any City of Europe, leaving the Ita⯑lian Opera out, which can neither produce Mirth or Sorrow, Pity or Compaſſion. Yet here is Muſic, in Perfection, converted to a better Uſe than in Britain, which produces a double Pleaſure—the Charms of Harmony, and the Means to relieve the Poor.

I have been in moſt Parts of the World in my Youth, and in every Place of Note I have touch'd at (as the Sailors term it) have found the Natives of this Kingdom in Places of Truſt and Power, venerated and eſteemed by all. I [78] ſhall therefore conclude with two Lines of that celebrated French Author Monſieur Voltaire d.

Peuple malheureux, doux, genereux, et vaillant,
En tous lieux exiles, mais par tout triomphant.
"Ill-fated Race! brave, generous, and true;
"Tho' Exiles in each Clime; thro' all, ſubdue."

MEMOIRS of the principal Performers on the STAGE.

[79]

JOSEPH ASHBURY, Eſq

THIS worthy Gentleman was born in London, the Year 1638. of an antient Family. His Father married a near Relation of that great Scholar and Soldier, Sir Walter Raleigh, who was firſt Gentleman to that Duke of Buckingham, that was kill'd by Lieutenant Felton in the Reign of King Charles the Firſt. The Gentleman I am about to give an Ac⯑count of, was ſent very young to a Eton-School, near Windſor, where he received a gen⯑teel Education, being very well inſtructed in claſſical Learning. After the Death of his Fa⯑ther, his Friends procur'd him a Pair of Co⯑lours in the Army under the Duke of Ormond, which was the firſt Time of his coming into [80] this Kingdom, in the laſt Year of Oliver Cromwell's Adminiſtration.

Mr. Aſhbury was one of the Number of Of⯑ficers that ſeiz'd the Caſtle of Dublin, when Go⯑vernor Jones was made Priſoner, and ſecur'd in Behalf of King Charles II. He was made Lieu⯑tenant of Foot of a Company granted by that Monarch to the City of Dublin, in the Year 1660. and 1662. the Duke of Ormond, the then Lord Lieutenant, made him one of the Gentlemen of his Retinue, and Deputy-Maſter of the Revels under John Ogilby, Eſq ſome time after.

In the Year 1682. at the Death of the Maſter of the Revels, through Mr. Aſhbury's Intereſt with the Duke of Ormond, he was made Pa⯑tentee, and Maſter of the Revels in this King⯑dom. His firſt Wife was Siſter to an eminent Actor of that Time (Mr. Richards), by whom he had two Children, who died in their Infan⯑cy; and the Mother of them, being a very in⯑firm Woman, was not long after the Death of her ſecond Child before ſhe left the World.

Mr. Aſhbury continued a Widower many Years, till, fixing his Eyes upon Miſs Dar⯑ling, a blooming young Gentlewoman, Daugh⯑ter to the Reverend Mr. Darling, Dean of Em⯑ly, by this Lady he had two Sons, the eldeſt Mr. Boyle Aſhbury, Lieutenant in Brigadier Bor's Regiment, and unfortunately killed in a Duel at Sligoe (where he was then on Duty) June the 9th, 1725. The laſt of the Male Race (Mr. Richard Aſhbury) is Deputy Ath⯑lone Purſuivant, and an eminent Undertaker [81] in Capel-ſtreet a. His only Daughter was married to Mr. Thomas Elrington.

Mr. Aſhbury was not only the principal Actor in his Time, but the beſt Teacher of the Rudi⯑ments of that Science in the three Kingdoms. I ſpeak not from my own Judgment, but that of many others, as Mr. Wilks, Mr. Booth, Mr. Keene, &c. To prove this, give me leave to inſert a Letter from Mr. Wilks to Mr. Aſhbury concerning Mr. William Wilks his Nephew b.

To Joſeph Aſhbury, Eſq Maſter of the Re⯑vels, Dublin.

I Have no Pretence to ask a Favour of Mr. Aſhbury, but that he has a thouſand times oblig'd me. I take the Liberty, therefore, to recommend the Bearer, my Nephew c, to you for your Countenance and Favour: [82] He was bred an Attorney, but is unhappily fallen in Love with that fickle Miſtreſs the Stage, and no Arguments can diſſuade him from it. I have refus'd to give him any Coun⯑tenance, in Hopes that Time and Experience might cure him: But ſince I find him de⯑termined to make an Attempt ſomewhere, no one, I am ſure, is able to give him ſo juſt a Notion of the Buſineſs as Mr. Aſhbury; and indeed I am proud to own, that all the Succeſs I have met with, both with you, and in Eng⯑land, on the Stage, has been intirely owing to the early Impreſſions I received from You.

If you find that my Nephew wants either Genius, or any other neceſſary Qualification, I beg, dear Sir, that you will freely tell him his Diſabilities; and then it is poſſible, he may more eaſily be perſuaded to return to his Friends and Buſineſs, which I am in⯑form'd he underſtands perfectly well.

Before I had the Favour of yours, honeſt Jo Trefuſis a, I believe, was near his Jour⯑ney's [83] End; and I had taken care to furniſh him with what was neceſſary, for which I neither expect or deſire any Return; 'tis ſuf⯑ficient that you eſteem it a Kindneſs, and I wiſh it were in my Power to lay a more laſt⯑ing Obligation upon Mr. Aſhbury, or any of his Family. My moſt humble Service to the deareſt Part of you—In plain Terms—your Wife—to Mr. Elrington and his Fanny—and pray believe, that I ſhall be ready on all Oc⯑caſions, to ſhew how much I am, dear Sir, your oblig'd and faithful humble Servant,

ROBERT WILKS.
London Dec. 6, 1714.
c
Mr. William Wilks, the Nephew mentioned in this Letter, came over here, and play'd ſeveral Parts in the Old Smock-alley Theatre; and, tho' young and genteel, he was only the Shadow of his Uncle, and his Name befriended him more than his Abilities. He return'd to England, after a Year's Probation here, and was en⯑tered one of the Company in Drury-lane, at thirty Shil⯑lings a Week, and died before he had reached his 30th Year, or a higher Salary. He was a good Scholar, and had a tolerable Knack of Rhyming to his PHYLLIS.
a
Mr. Joſeph Trefuſis was the original Trapland in Love for Love, and a well-eſteem'd low Comedian (a Theatrical Term to diſtinguiſh that Branch from the Gen⯑teel); and was famous for Dancing an aukward Coun⯑try Clown. He was an experienced Angler. As he was fiſhing by the Liffy Side, ſome Friends of his were go⯑ing in a Boat in order to embark for England. Jo, ſeeing them, called to them to take him in, that he might ſee them ſafe on board. He gave his Fiſhing-Rod to a Friend on Shore, to take care of till his Return; but Jo, it ſeems, was prevailed upon by his Companions to make the Journey to London with them, with his Fiſhing-cloaths upon his Back, not a ſecond Shirt, and but ſeven Shillings in his Pocket. His Companions left him at London, and Mr. Wilks found him gazing at the Dial in the Square of Covent-Garden. He hardly knew him at firſt (as Mr. Wilks told me) but by his particular Gait, which was beyond Imitation When he aſked him how he came there, and in that Pickle; Hum! ha! why faith, Bobby, reply'd Jo, I only came from Dublin to ſee what it was o'Clock at Covent Garden. However, Mr. Wilks new-cloath'd him, ſupply'd him with Money, and ſent him back, as mentioned in the above Letter, be⯑fore he receiv'd Mr. Aſhbury's Letter to ſupply him.

When the Earl of Wharton was Lord Lieu⯑tenant, ſome needy Courtier try'd all his In⯑tereſt to be made Maſter of the Revels; in⯑ſomuch that Mr. Aſhbury was greatly alarm'd at it, which was ſaid to proceed from a Re⯑port of his Death. Therefore, in the 74th Year of his Age he embark'd for England to ſolicit the Queen.

[84] He arrived at Cheſter, from whence he ſent the following Letter to his Wife concerning the Affair.

a Cheſter, October 13. 1713.
My Dear,

THIS is only to let you know that I am ſafely arrived at Cheſter, where I had the good Fortune to meet with Sir John Stanley, who was well pleaſed to ſee me. Af⯑ter I had told him the Cauſe of my Journey relating to my Patent, he bid me be aſſured, he would render me all the good Offices in his Power, and was of the Opinion it lay in the Will of the Duke of Shrewsbury our good Lord Lieutenant, without giving our gra⯑cious Queen the leaſt Trouble concerning it. This Morning I had the Honour of a Viſit from Mr. Kightly and Sir Richard Levinze, who are of the ſame Opinlon with Sir John, and have both promiſed me their utmoſt Aſſiſtance. Good Mr. Kightly tells me, he will put her Majeſty in mind of her old Maſ⯑ter b, as he was pleaſed to call me. I am ſo well ſatisfy'd in the Affair, that I would re⯑turn to thee on the firſt Opportunity, if I had not reſolved to ſee my Siſter, and my Son Tom Elrington's Father and Mother. [85] Thou knoweſt it is troubleſome to me to write; but to ſatisfy thee in thy longing De⯑ſire to hear from me, I take the Trouble with Pleaſure. I remain thine for ever,

JOSEPH ASHBURY,
My Bleſſing to all my dear Children.
a
I received this from the ſame Hand with the other.
b
Mr. Aſhbury taught the Queen, when ſhe was Prin⯑ceſs Anne, the Part of Semandra in Mithridates King of Pontus, which was acted at Court by Perſons of the firſt Rank in the Banqueting-Houſe, Whitehall, where Mr. Aſhbury was Prompter, and conducted the Whole.

Mr. Aſhbury ſuceeded Mr. Darling as Stew⯑ard of the King's-Inns, a Poſt of good Profit. I had not the Pleaſure of knowing this great Man but till the latter Part of his Life; yet, notwithſtanding his great Age, I have ſeen him perform ſeveral Parts with the utmoſt Satisfac⯑tion; and tho' at his Years it could not be ex⯑pected the Fire of Youth and Vigour ſhould blaze out, yet Truth and Nature might be ſeen in a juſt Light. His Perſon was of an advantageous Height well-proportioned and manly; and, notwithſtanding his great Age, erect; a Countenance that demanded a reve⯑rential Awe, a full and meaning Eye, pier⯑cing, tho' not in its full Luſtre; and yet I have ſeen him read Letters, and printed Books, with⯑out any Aſſiſtance from Art; a ſweet-ſound⯑ing manly Voice, without any Symptoms of his Age in his Speech. I have ſeen him ac⯑quit himſelf in the Part of Careleſs in the Com⯑mittee ſo well, that his Years never ſtruck upon Remembrance. And his Perſon, Figure, and Manner in Don Quixote were inimitable. The Uſe of a ſhort Cloak in former Faſhions on the Stage ſeem'd habitual to him, and in Comedy he ſeemed to wear it in Imagination, which [86] often produced Action, tho' not ungraceful, particular and odd to many of the Audience; yet in Tragedy thoſe Actions were left off, and every Motion manly, great, and proper.

Mrs. Aſhbury, even in her noon-tide Sun, had an amiable Perſon, a ſweet, innocent, mo⯑deſt, winning Countenance; and, having ſo great a Maſter in the Art, was ever juſt in Speech and Action, without climbing to the Summit of Perfection; yet I have ſeen her perform one Part that ſeem'd a finiſh'd Ori⯑ginal, where all ſince have appeared to me but excellent Copies (if I may uſe the Term), that is, Mrs. Pinchwife in Wycherly's Comedy of the Country Wife.

Joſeph Aſhbury, Eſq died July 24. 1720. in the 82d Year of his Age, retaining his Judg⯑ment to the laſt Moment of his Life. Mrs. Aſh⯑bury ſurviv'd him a few Years, bewailing his Loſs till ſhe follow'd him to the Grave. This great Man was Maſter of the Revels to Five Monarchs of England, viz. K. Charles II. K. James II. K. William, Q. Anne, and K. George the Firſt. I ſhall lead him to his Grave, with the following Poem on his lamented Death.

As diſtant Thunder in a rolling Cloud,
Firſt murmurs inwardly, then roars aloud;
Till the dread Clap frights ev'ry mortal Ear,
And ſtrikes them with a juſt and panic Fear:
Such was the ſad diſtracted News which bore
The Tidings to us—Aſhbury's no more!
The Muſes ſpeechleſs to his Shrine repair,
Ev'n Art, and Wit, ſtand ſilent Mourners there;
[87] Yet bolder Zeal will Bands of Duty break,
And Gratitude has Liberty to ſpeak:
True Paſſion too can Inſpiration bring:
'Twas Grief firſt taught the Nightingale to ſing—
From his, as from ſome Hero's awful Tomb,
Ev'n my dead Muſe ſhall vital Warmth reſume.
When firſt in Learning's Orb his Luſtreblaz'd,
The World look'd up, tranſported and amaz'd!
His Words, as if inſpir'd, Impreſſion made;
Ulyſſes' Skill, without his Craft, diſplay'd:
His Counſels ne'er were varniſh'd o'er with Art,
With Policy he ſtill did Truth impart,
Spoke Oracles, but always ſpoke his Heart.
By Judgment's Compaſs ev'ry Courſe he ſteer'd,
And watch'd the Signals ere the Storm appear'd.
His Prudence o'er the Surges did prevail,
With Ballaſt ſtill proportion'd to his Sail—
Precipitately ne'er aſſum'd a Truſt,
To promiſe, ſlow; but in Performance juſt:
By Grace inſtructed, and by Nature mild;
Nor reliſh'd Life, but when he reconcil'd.
His Life and Aſpect did juſt Patterns give,
What Figures we ſhould make, and how to live.

Mr. ANTONY ASTON, commonly called TONY.

THIS Perſon was bred an Attorney in England; but, having a Smattering of Wit and Humour, he left the Study of the Law for Parts on the Stage. He ſtrain'd ſorth a Comedy which was acted on the Theatre in [88] Smock-alley, call'd Love in a Hurry, but with no Succeſs. He play'd in all the Theatres in London, but never continued long in any; his Way of living was peculiar to himſelf and Fa⯑mily, reſorting to the principal Cities and Towns in England with his Medley, as he call'd it, which conſiſted of ſome capital Scenes o Humour out of the moſt celebrated Plays. His Company were generally compos'd of his own Family, himſelf, his Wife and Son; between every Scene, a Song or Dialogue of his own Compo⯑ſition, fill'd up the Chinks of the ſlender Meal. He pretended a Right to every Town he enter⯑ed; and if a Company came to any Place where he exhibited his Compoſitions, he would uſe all his Art to evacuate the Place of theſe Interlo⯑pers, as he called them. He was never out of his Way; or if he met with a ſightly Houſe when he was Itinerant, he would ſoon find the Name, Title, and Circumſtances of the Fami⯑ly, curry them over with his humorous Verſe, and by that means get ſomething to bear his Charges to his next Station. His Finances, like thoſe of Kingdoms, were ſometimes at the Tide of Flood, and as often at low Ebb. In one, where his Stream had left the Chanel dry, yet ready to launch out on a trading Voyage with⯑out a Cargo, or Proviſion, he called up his Landlord, to whom there was ſomething due, told him of his Loſſes in his preſent Voyage, and being ſent for to another Place, deſired he would lend him a ſmall Sum upon his Wardrobe (which he ſhew'd him in a large Box) ten times [89] the Value of the Debt owing, or the Sum bor⯑row'd. The honeſt Landlord, ſeeing a proper Security, eaſily comply'd, gave him the Sum demanded, lock'd up the Trunk, put the Key in his Pocket, and retired. But as no Veſſel can make a Voyage without Sails, and other proper Materials, he had contriv'd a falſe Bot⯑tom to this great Box, took out the Stuffing, and by Degrees, ſent off his Wardrobe by his Emiſſaries, unperceiv'd. And that the Weight ſhould not detect him, he filled up the Void with Cabbage-ſtalks, Bricks and Stones cloath'd in Rags to prevent moving, when the Vehicle was to be taken the next Morning into the Landlord's Cuſtody. Every thing ſucceeded to his Wiſh, and away went Tony, but far wide of the Place he mentioned to mine Hoſt. A Week was the ſtated Time of Redemption, which the Landlord ſaw elapſe with infinite Sa⯑tisfaction (for he had a Bill of Sale of the Con⯑tents in the Trunk); he open'd it with great Pleaſure; but when he ſaw the fine Lining! he was motionleſs, like a Statue carv'd by a bungling Hand. He had recourſe to Re⯑venge. A Bailiff with proper Directions was ſent to the Place mentioned; but if he had diſcover'd the leaſt Wit in his Anger, he might have thought Tony knew better than to tell him Truth. I only mention this little Story, to let the Reader know the Shifts the Itinerant Gentry are ſometimes put to. For Tony, when his Finances were in Order, and cur'd of the Conſump⯑tion, honeſtly paid him. I have had this Tale [90] both from Tony and the Landlord, who then kept the Black-Boy Inn at Chelmsford in Eſſex.

If Tony by chance ever came to a Town where a Company of Showmen (as People oft call them) had got in before him, he preſent⯑ly declar'd War with them; and his general Conditions of Peace were, that they ſhould act a Play for his Benefit, that he might leave the Siege, and march with his ſmall Troop to ſome other Place. And as he was a Perſon of Humour, and a proper Aſſurance, he ge⯑nerally, like a Cat, ſkimm'd off the fat Cream, and left the lean Milk to thoſe that ſtay'd behind. I believe he is Travelling ſtill, and is as well known in every Town, as the Poſt-Horſe that carries the Mail. He ſhall make his Exit with the two following Lines.

If various Dealers the ſame Goods exhibit,
They wiſh each other dangling on a Gibbet.

BARTON BOOTH, Eſq

THIS excellent Tragedian was Son to John Booth, Eſq of the County Palatine of Lancaſter, a Branch of the Warrington Fa⯑mily. He was born in the Year 1681. in that County; but ſoon after his Birth his Father and Family removed to Weſtminſter, and, at that celebrated School, the Son received his Education, under the Correction (as he call'd it) of the great Dr. Buſby and Dr. Knipe. He [91] inform'd me, the firſt Look he caſt towards the Theatre, was from the Applauſe he received in performing in the Andria of Terence in La⯑tin at Weſtminſter-School, which perverted his Thoughts from the Pulpit, for which his Fa⯑ther intended him. At Seventeen he was choſe out for the Univerſity, and had Orders to prepare for his Journey; but his Inclinations prevented the Deſigns of his Friends.

He firſt apply'd to Mr. Betterton, then to Mr. Smith, Two celebrated Actors; but they decently refus'd him for Fear of the Reſent⯑ment of his Family: But this did not prevent his purſuing the Point in View; therefore he reſolv'd for Ireland, and ſafely arrived in June 1698. His firſt Rudiments Mr. Aſhbury taught him, and his firſt Appearance was in the Part of Oroonoko, where he acquitted himſelf ſo well to a crouded Audience, that Mr. Aſhbury re⯑warded him with a Preſent of Five Guineas, which was the more acceptable as his laſt Shil⯑ling was reduced to Braſs (as he inform'd me). But an odd Accident fell out upon this Occa⯑ſion. It being very warm Weather, in his laſt Scene of the Play, as he waited to go on, he inadvertently wiped his Face, that, when he enter'd, he had the Appearance of a Chimney-Sweeper (his own Words). At his Entrance, he was ſurpris'd at the Variety of Noiſes he heard in the Audience (for he knew not what he had done), that a little confounded him, till he received an extraordinary Clap of Applauſe, which ſettled his Mind. The Play was deſir'd [92] for the next Night of Acting, when an Actreſs fitted a Crape to his Face, with an Opening proper for the Mouth, and ſhap'd in Form for the Noſe; but, in the firſt Scene, one Part of the Crape ſlip'd off: And Zounds! ſaid he (he was a little apt to ſwear), I look'd like a Mag⯑pie! When I came off, they Lamp-black'd me for the reſt of the Night 1, that I was flayed before it could be got off again.

He remained here near Two Years, and, in that Time, by Letters, reconciled himſelf to his Friends in England, and return'd with great Theatrical Improvement, where he gra⯑dually ſtept to Perfection. In 1704. he mar⯑ry'd the Daughter of Sir Wm. Barkham, Bart. an antient Family in the County of Norfolk, who died without Iſſue in the Year 1711. Pyrrhus in the Diſtreſt Mother plac'd him in the Seat of Tragedy, and Cato fix'd him there; and, to reward his Merit, he was join'd in the Patent, tho' great Intereſt was made againſt him by the other Patentees; who, to prevent his ſoliciting his Patrons at Court, then at Windſor, gave out Plays every Night, where Mr. Booth had a principal Part. Notwith⯑ſtanding this Step, he had a Chariot and Six of a Nobleman's waiting for him at the End of every Play, that whipt him the Twenty Miles in three Hours, and brought him back to the Buſineſs of the Theatre the next Night. [93] He told me, not one Nobleman in the Kingdom had ſo many Sets of Horſes at Command as he had at that Time, having no leſs than Eight; the firſt Set carrying him to Hounſlow from London, Ten Miles; and the next Set ready waiting with another Chariot to carry him to Windſor.

He had a vaſt Fund of Underſtanding as well as Good-nature, and a perſuaſive Elocu⯑tion even in common Diſcourſe, that would even compel you to believe him againſt your Judgment of Things. Notwithſtanding his Exuberance of Fancy, he was untainted in his Morals. In his younger Years he admir'd none of the Heathen Deities ſo much as Jolly Bac⯑chus; to him he was very devout; yet, if he drank ever ſo deep, it never marr'd his Study, or his Stomach. But, immediately after his Marriage with Miſs Santlow, whoſe wiſe Con⯑duct, Beauty, and winning Behaviour, ſo wrought upon him, that Home, and her Com⯑pany, were his chief Happineſs, he intirely contemn'd the Folly of Drinking out of Seaſon, and from one Extreme fell, I think, into the other too ſuddenly; for his Appetite for Food had no Abatement. I have often known Mrs. Booth, out of extreme Tenderneſs to him, order the Table to be remov'd, for fear of over⯑charging his Stomach.

His profound Learning was extraordinary, ſince he left School at Seventeen, took to the Stage at Eighteen, and, by his own Confeſſion, that the Buſineſs of the Stage, joined with his [94] Devotion to Bacchus, had taken up moſt of his Time ſince, yet I have ſeen him take a Claſſic, and render it in ſuch elegant Engliſh, that no Tranſlator would hardly excel. I will ſet down his Character from a Paper call'd the Prompter, by Aaron Hill, Eſq whoſe Writings will be a living Monument of his own Merit.

Mr. Booth was a Man of a ſtrong, clear, and lively Imagination. His Converſation was lively and inſtructive: He had the Ad⯑vantage of a finiſh'd Education to improve and illuſtrate the bountiful Gifts of Nature. Two Advantages diſtinguiſhed him in the ſtrongeſt Light, from the reſt of the Frater⯑nity. He had Learning to underſtand per⯑fectly whatever it was his Part to ſpeak, and Judgment to know how far it agreed or diſagreed with his Character. Hence aroſe a peculiar Grace, which was viſible to every Spectator, tho' few were at the Pains of ex⯑amining into the Cauſe of their Pleaſure. He could ſoften, or ſlide over, with a kind of elegant Negligence, the Improprieties in a Part he acted; while, on the contrary, he would dwell with Energy upon the Beauties, as if he exerted a latent Spirit, which had been kept back for ſuch an Occaſion, that he might alarm, waken, and tranſport, in thoſe Places only, where the Dignity of his own good Senſe could be ſupported with that of his Author. A little Reflection up⯑on this remarkable Quality, will teach us to account for that manifeſt Languor which has [95] ſometimes been obſerved in his Action; and which was generally, tho', I think, falſly, imputed to the Indolence of his Temper. For the ſame Reaſon, tho' in the cuſtomary Round of his Buſineſs he would condeſcend to ſome Parts in Comedy, he ſeldom ap⯑pear'd in any of them with much Advantage to his Character. The Paſſions which he found in Comedy, were not ſtrong enough to excite his Fire; and what ſeem'd Want of Qualification, was only Abſence of Im⯑preſſion. He had a Talent of diſcovering the Paſſions where they lay hid in ſome ce⯑lebrated Parts by the injudicious Practice of other Actors; when he had diſcover'd, he ſoon grew able to expreſs them: And his Secret for attaining this great Leſſon of the Theatre, was an Adaption of his Looks to his Voice, by which artful Imitation of Na⯑ture, the Variations in the Sound of his Words gave Propriety to every Change in his Countenance: So that it was Booth's Excellence to be heard and ſeen the ſame, whether as the pleas'd, the griev'd, the pi⯑tying, the reproachful, or the angry. His Geſture, or, as it is commonly call'd, his Action, was but the Reſult and neceſſary Conſequence of his Dominion over his Voice and Countenance; for having, by a Concur⯑rence of Two ſuch Cauſes, impreſſed his Ima⯑gination with ſuch a Stamp and Spirit of Paſſion, his Nerves obey'd the Impulſe by a kind of natural Dependency, or relaxed [96] or braced ſucceſſively into all that fine Ex⯑preſſiveneſs with which he painted what he ſpoke without Reſtraint, or Affectation.

As a Proof of Mr. Booth's Learning, I am deſired to inſert the Latin Inſcription wrote by him on the Death of Mr. Smith mthe Actor, [97] with a ſhort Account of him, as I receiv'd it from Mr. Benjamin Huſband.

Scenicus eximius,
Regnante Carolo Secundo:
Bettertono Coaetaneus & Amicus,
Nec non propemodum Aequalis:
Haud ignobile ſtirpe oriundus,
Nec Literarum rudis Humaniorum,
Rem Scenicam
Per multos feliciter Annos adminiſtravit,
Juſtoque moderamine, & morum ſuavitate,
Omnium intra Theatrum
Obſervantiam, extra Theatrum laudem,
Ubique benevolentiam & amorem, ſibi conciliavit.
In Engliſh,
An excellent Actor
Flouriſhed in the Reign of Charles the Second:
Betterton's Cotemporary and Friend,
And very near him in Merit:
Sprung from a genteel Family,
And no Stranger to Literature.
In the Management of the Theatre
Heacquitted himſelf many Years, with deſerved Succeſs;
And, by a juſt Deportment, and Sweetneſs of Temper,
[98] Gained the Reſpect of all within the Theatre,
The Applauſe of thoſe without;
And every-where claimed the Friendſhip
And Affection of Mankind.

I ſhall give a Couple of Songs as a Speci⯑men of his Taſte in Engliſh Poetry, among many that do not occur to my Memory. The Source of them both ſprung from his growing Paſſion for the amiable Miſs Santlow, before their Marriage.

The Firſt SONG.
CAN then a Look create a Thought
Which Time can ne'er remove?
Yes, fooliſh Heart, again thou'rt caught,
Again thou bleed'ſt for Love.
She ſees the Conqueſt of her Eyes,
Nor heals the Wounds ſhe gave;
She ſmiles whene'er my Bluſhes riſe,
And, ſighing, ſhuns her Slave.
Then, Swain, be bold! and ſtill adore her,
Still the flying Fair purſue:
Love, and Friendſhip, ſtill implore her,
Pleading Night and Day for you.
The Second SONG.
[99]
I.
SWEET are the Charms of her I love,
More fragrant than the Damask Roſe;
Soft as the Down of Turtle-Dove,
Gentle as Winds when Zephyr blows;
Refreſhing as deſcending Rains,
On Sun-burnt Climes, and thirſty Plains.
II.
True as the Needle to the Pole,
Or as the Dial to the Sun;
Conſtant as gliding Waters roll,
Whoſe ſwelling Tides obey the Moon:
From ev'ry other Charmer free,
My Life, and Love, ſhall follow thee.
III.
The Lamb the flow'ry Thyme devours,
The Dam the tender Kid purſues;
Sweet Philomel, in ſhady Bow'rs,
With verdant Spring her Notes renews:
All follow what they moſt admire,
As I purſue my Soul's Deſire.
IV.
Nature muſt change her beauteous Face,
And vary as the Seaſons riſe;
As Winter to the Spring gives Place,
Summer th' Approach of Autumn flies:
No Change on Love the Seaſons bring,
Love only knows perpetual Spring.
[100]V.
Devouring Time, with ſtealing Pace,
Makes lofty Oaks and Cedars bow;
And Marble Tow'rs, and Gates of Braſs,
In his rude March he levels low:
But Time, deſtroying far and wide,
Love from the Soul can ne'er divide.
VI.
Death, only, with his cruel Dart,
The gentle Godhead can remove;
And drive him from the bleeding Heart,
To mingle with the Bleſt above;
Where, known to all his Kindred Train,
He finds a laſting Reſt from Pain.
VII.
Love, and his Siſter fair, the Soul,
Twin-born from Heav'n together came;
Love will the Univerſe controul,
When dying Seaſons loſe their Name:
Divine Abodes ſhall own his Pow'r,
When Time, and Death, ſhall be no more.

Mr. W. BOWEN.

HE was born in this Kingdom in the Year 1666. and play'd on the Iriſh Theatre ſe⯑veral Years. He had a loud ſtrong Voice, which gave him the Title of an Actor of Spirit. Through the Intereſt of the late Duke of Or⯑mond, [101] he got into the Revenue in London. He was fiery to a Fault, and paſſionate to his Pre⯑judice, which drew on his own Death, by the unwilling Hands of Mr. Quin. Mr. Bowen was too tenacious, and could not brook being told, that the late Ben Johnſon excell'd in the Part of Jacomo in the Libertine: Tho' it was given againſt him by the whole Company. He immediately parted, ſent to Mr. Quin (in the Name of a Gentleman) to a neighbouring Tavern; when he enter'd, Bowen ſhut the Door, clapt his Back againſt it, and drew his Sword. Mr. Quin mildly expoſtulated with him, but all to no Purpoſe. He threaten'd to pin him to the Wainſcot, if he did not draw that Moment; which he did to defend his own Life, with an Intention to diſarm him: But Bowen preſſed ſo furiouſly upon him, that he receiv'd the Wound which occaſion'd his Death three Days after. However, when the Loſs of Blood had weakened his Rage, he confeſs'd his own Folly and Madneſs had juſtly drawn on his own Misfortune; and, at the Tryal, Mr. Quin was honourably acquitted. Mr. Bowen had ſeveral Children by his Wife, and a Boy illegitimate, who, tho' he bore his Name, had none of his Care; and therefore lived a diſſolute Life, without the leaſt Im⯑provement from Education, and juſtly gain'd the Nick-name of Rugged-and-Tough. One Day a Clergyman in St. Clement Danes (a Church in the Strand) was catechizing the Chil⯑dren of the Pariſh, where Rugged-and-Tough [102] thruſt among the reſt. Rugged's Dreſs was none of the cleaneſt; which the good Parſon obſerving, call'd him the firſt to be examin'd. I ſhall put the ſhort Dialogue down juſt as I had it from an Ear-witneſs; ſince the Que⯑ſtions are ſhort, as well as the Anſwers, they will not appear very tedious.

Parſon.

What's your Name?

Rug.

Rugged-and-Tough.

Parſon.

Who gave you that Name?

Rug.

The Boys of our Alley, L—d d—n 'em for't.

The good Parſon was a little ſurpris'd, no doubt; and order'd him to wait till the reſt of the Children were examin'd, intending to poliſh Maſter Rugged-and-Tough; but Tough, not liking to wait ſo long, ſtole off unperceiv'd. All I could learn of Mr. Rugged-and-Tough afterwards was, that, having a great Inclina⯑tion to travel, he contrived Means to do it at the Charge of the Government.

Thus bad Beginning to bad Ending tends,
And Vice in Nature, Nature ſeldom mends.

Mr. JOHN BARRINGTON.

THIS Gentleman was born of a good Family in the County of Corke. He was bred to the Law, but his ſtronger Genius led him to the Drama, where he has prov'd him⯑ſelf one of its favourite Children. I think his [103] firſt Commencement in the Drama was in Violante's Booth (as it was then call'd) in George's-Lane. He may be well eſteem'd an excellent Comic Actor, of infinite Humour; a much-deſir'd pleaſing Companion, and (what is not always to be met with) a Perſon of Sin⯑cerity. There is a very antient Family of the Barringtons in the County of Eſſex, in England; where they ſhew a Record, that their Anceſtor was inſtructed in the Chriſtian Faith by the Preaching of St. Auguſtine the Monk, afterwards Biſhop of Canterbury, and receiv'd Baptiſm in the River of Thames by that Saint, in the Year of Redemption 597. This Account may, probably, be called a motly one; but what of that? A good Player (from the Poet) may inſtruct; and, as an old Author writes,

A Verſe may find him who a Sermon flies,
And turn Delight into a Sacrifice.

Mr. SPRANGER BARRY.

THIS Gentleman was born in Dublin. He was marry'd very young, and, con⯑ſequently, ſet forward in the World, perhaps, with too little Conſideration. A lively Spirit, and good Senſe, are not always proſperous, or meet with that Succeſs equal to their Merit. Neither does the Employment of a Father always ſit eaſy upon the Son. Buſineſs is not [104] hereditary. One may gain a Fortune by the ſame Employment that might be loſt by the Deſcendent. Our young Gentleman, by fre⯑quent Attendance at the Theatre, turned his Genius to the Drama. Inclination and Fancy are two good Inſtructors, and a Willingneſs to pleaſe is doing ſome Part of the Work. A good Perſon, and an excellent Voice, are great Subſtantives for the Stage.

The firſt Part he perform'd in this Kingdom was Othello the Moor of Venice: To the ſur⯑priſing Satisfaction of the general Audience, he ſeem'd a finiſh'd Actor dropt from the Clouds. I hear, that in England he has gained the Sum⯑mit of Perfection. I would ſay more upon the Subject, but, as he received the firſt Ru⯑diments from me, I ſhall be ſilent; yet bor⯑row a few Lines from the Poet, that may give a Remembrance of his Perſon,

Such Beauty, as great Strength thinks no Diſgrace,
Smil'd in the manly Features of his Face:
His tall ſtrait Body amidſt Thouſands ſtood,
Like ſome fair Pine, the loftieſt of the Wood.

I don't think I can give the Reader a greater Pleaſure, upon this Occaſion, than to inſert the following Letter upon Mr. Barry's firſt Attempt on the Stage; which may ſerve for a general Inſtruction to all on the Theatre.

To Mr. Spranger Barry, from a Friend in the Country.
[105]

AS I lately heard you were determin'd for the Stage, my Affection for your Perſon, and Concern for your Misfortunes, gave Oc⯑caſion to ſome Reflections which may, poſ⯑ſibly, be of Uſe to you in this new Scene of Life. In the Time of Athenian Elegance, when Learning was in Taſte, when Liberty was the Bleſſing of the Public, and the Pa⯑rent of Arts; which Excellence, alone, found Honour, Capacity, Employment, and Me⯑rit, Rewards; the Stage grew ſuddenly from its Infancy to Maturity, and, from be⯑ing encouraged, became itſelf the Encou⯑rager of thoſe Talents and Geniuſes with which it was ſupply'd. It was there that each Spectator was taught his particular Conduct, by ſeeing his own Repreſentation in the ge⯑neral Picture of Life, where the Lights were thrown alone upon Virtue, and the Shades upon Vice; where Great and Eminent, of every Age, were ſet up for Imitation; where every noble, tender, and exalted Sentiment, was recorded, and daily inculcated; where Purity was invited, Obſcenity exiled; and where the Heart was attached to Virtue, by affectingly walking through all its Scenes of Misfortunes; and, laſtly, exulting in its fi⯑nal Reward. No Inſtitution, leſs than divine, could ever be of equal Efficacy, or Advan⯑tage: [106] For when Inſtruction becomes our Entertainment, then, only, it is, that Vice grows deteſtable, and Virtue delightful, from the Pleaſure it brings: And hence were the Sentiments of the Grecian Vulgar ſo exalted, that an immoral Expreſſion, tho' naturally introduced in an immoral Character, has been hiſs'd off the Stage. Shall we think, then, that where the Doctrine was ſo glo⯑rious, the Preaching was diſhonourable? No, ſure. To be an Actor, then, was not to be a Mimic; no Trick of Geſture, or Tone of Voice, could avail: Thoſe of Diſtinction were to be, by Nature, the very Perſons they re⯑preſented; they were to have the ſame Ele⯑vation of Soul, the ſame Delicacy of Thought, the ſame Morality of Life, the ſame Huma⯑nity of Heart, and Sweetneſs of Affections, that could at once conſtitute the Patriot, the Hero, the Lover, and the Friend. The Words only belonged to the Author, the Sen⯑timents were, by Nature, their own; and hence flowed that Aptneſs of Attitude, that Eaſe in Elocution, that expreſſive Look, that eloquent Silence, that Freedom of Action, and that Harmony of the Whole, which at once exalted, melted, and ſubdued a mighty Nation to Elegance and Virtue. Where ſuch an Actor was found, he was juſtly eſteem'd a Bleſſing to the Community. As his Talents were the Admiration, ſo his Per⯑ſon was the Delight, of all People; in his Life he was honoured, and his Poſterity provided [107] for. You will now, perhaps, be tempted to wiſh, that this was the Stage of the Athe⯑nians; but Nature and Mankind are always the ſame; and even on the Engliſh Theatre I have known ſome, who gain'd more Encou⯑ragement and Reſpect as Actors, than they deſerv'd as Men: But if the Members of your new Province have brought a Scandal on their Profeſſion, let it be your Study to re⯑trieve it. If I have any Judgment, you are qualified to excel in this Way; nor would I have you imagine, that any will ſhun you in Private, merely becauſe you give them Plea⯑ſure and Entertainment in Public. Let your Heart be the true Model of whatever is great, or good, in the Characters you re⯑preſent: Take Inſtruction with Pleaſure, and Applauſe with Humility; and then fear not to be received as the Man of Worth, and the Gentleman you have hitherto been eſteemed. I am, &c.

Mr. PETER BARDIN,

WAS born in Dublin, tho' of French Ex⯑traction. He bent his Thoughts towards the Stage very early in Youth, and, having ſeen the Performance of the beſt Actors in England, upon the London Stages (where, at various Times, he has made one in moſt of the The⯑atres in that City), if he has not improv'd, it muſt be owing to himſelf. His long Inter⯑courſe [108] of Theatrical Action has improv'd his Study, and few Parts become amiſs to him, ei⯑ther (as Shakeſpear ſays) ‘for Tragedy, Come⯑dy, Hiſtory, Paſtoral, Paſtoral-Comical, Hi⯑ſtorical-Paſtoral, Scene undividable, or Poem unlimited, &c.’ It does not become me to condemn, or uphold his Conduct, in private Life; however, I cannot avoid giving my Opi⯑nion, that ſuch Diſputes that have fallen out, need not trouble the Public in their public Di⯑verſions. I own, if a Perſon pays his Money for his Entertainment, he ought to enjoy it quietly. If a Cook at an Ordinary has ſpoil'd another Perſon's Dinner, that Perſon, I think, has no Right to ſpoil mine; more eſpecially, if I had made a Tinker's Bargain, and paid for my Meal before-hand. Give me Leave to add a printed Paper on the Subject, whoſe Author has ſaid much more than my Capacity will reach.

A ſmall Animadverſion on a late Affair in the Playhouſe.

I Went, the other Night, to the Playhouſe, in full Expectation of ſeeing the Rehearſal perform'd in as high a Manner as was poſſible: But, to my great Surprize, the Performance was interrupted, and the Audience diſap⯑pointed, by a Concert of moſt unmuſical In⯑ſtruments, in the Gallery. The Cauſe of this Noiſe and Hurly-burly was ſoon found to be a private Diſpute between ſomebody in the [109] Gallery and Bardin the Player, which Diſ⯑pute might (with the Conſent of the whole Theatre) have ſubſiſted ſeven Years, ſo it had not offended a numerous and polite Audience.

—If a Player, in his private Capacity, offends me, will this warrant my offending a thou⯑ſand People at once? Should I have a Diſ⯑pute at Law, or Play with Mr. G—ck, muſt the whole Town, for this Reaſon, loſe the En⯑tertainment of the rareſt King Lear and Mac⯑beth that ever were ſeen in this, or any other Country? If B—n had done any unwar⯑rantable and injurious Thing to a Gentleman, B—n ſhould have made proper and ample Satisfaction, in his private Capacity, for the Offence. The Audience had no Right in, nor Care for B—n, but they certainly have for Prince Volſcius; he was their Player; they had paid for him: The Prince had managed his Horſe with wondrous Dexterity, and had an undoubted Right to have ridden him to the Battle. There is nothing more miſtaken than that Right which ſome People imagine they have in Theatres, and other publick Places; for, in Truth, their Right conſiſts only in decently partaking of the Entertainment, and, where they think it deſerves it, giving a proper and timely Applauſe. It is the ſame Right that a Man has in a Ferry-boat, that is (if he behaves himſelf properly), to be ſafe⯑ly and pleaſantly landed on the oppoſite Shore; but, if he diſturbs the Paſſage, and en⯑dangers the Boat, the Ferryman and Paſſen⯑gers [110] will certainly join, and throw him over⯑board. A ſurly Swain at a Horſe-race, fan⯑ſying he had a Right to any Part of the Sod, would needs ride directly in the Courſe; the firſt of the Racers threw him and his Horſe twenty Yards on the Ground; and better had it been if he had died with his Horſe on the Spot; for he received a Laſh from every Whip in the Field. Every Gentleman, pro⯑perly habited, has a Right to go to Court; but if a Perſon, having a Pique to a Battle-ax, ſhould breed an Uproar in the Levee-room, he would certainly have a Halberd in his Guts, or be ſent to the Black Hole. There can be no Excuſe for doing an Injury to a Multitude.

I have often dined at a Two-diſh Ordinary, where I had a Right to partake of each; but if I ſhould have taken it into my Head to have thrown one Diſh at the Waiter, and kick'd the other about the Floor, I do verily believe I ſhould have been kick'd down Stairs. If a Gentleman (Heaven defend us!) ſhould have a Quarrel on his Hands with a Porter, the Gentleman certainly has a Right to do himſelf Juſtice; but I ſhould think it ſome⯑what untimely, if he ſhould knock the Fel⯑low down when he had a Dozen of my Wine on his Back. Shakeſpear, who well under⯑ſtood the Decorum of Theatres, gives ſtrong Advice for proper Behaviour: He ſpeaks it to the Players, but he meant it to the Spec⯑tators likewiſe, tho', in his Modeſty, he held [111] it not meet ſo to ſet it down. He directs them to be extremely careful not to create the leaſt Noiſe or Diſturbance in the Houſe when the Play ſhould be duly attended to. He concludes, that, to diſturb the Houſe, is villainous, and betrays a pitiful Ambition in the Fool that does it.

I am, Sirs,
your humble Servant.

How neceſſary it is, we may ſee, for Stage-performers to have a ſtrict Guard on their Be⯑haviour; and I have ſaid it before, their own Conduct will make them eſteemed or ſlighted, will draw Regard or Inſult. To ſtrengthen my own Opinion, I ſhall inſert a very ſmall Paragraph from a very late News-Paper.

Naples, Auguſt 16. 1748.

One of the Lords of the Court has been baniſhed, for having publickly inſulted, up⯑on the New Theatre, one of the Singing-women of the Opera.

But many Things are ſpoke without a Thought,
That, badly conſtru'd, have Confuſion brought.

Mr. JOHN BEAMSLY.

THIS Perſon has had a large Experience, of Time and Travel, in England and Ire⯑land, for improving his Theatrical Genius. He [112] is decent in many Parts, and ſeldom offends in any; is ever very perfect, a Voice ſtrong and intelligible, not unharmonious, and may rank in the File of good Actors, either in Tragedy or Comedy.

Merit may ſhine in various Beams of Light,
And diff'rent Men, in diff'rent Roads, are right.

Mrs. BULLOCK.

THIS Gentlewoman was the Natural Daughter of the late perfect Comedian Robert Wilks, Eſq by Mrs. Rogers, an Actreſs of Merit, among great Stage Performers. So parented, one might have expected a finiſh'd Genius for the Stage: She, however, pleas'd in ſeveral dramatic Characters, aſſiſted by a graceful Form and Figure. In the Year 1717. ſhe was join'd in Wedlock to Mr. Chriſtopher Bullock, a very promiſing Comedian, who died in the Road to Excellence.

After various Turns of Fortune, ſhe came over to this Kingdom, with her Daughter (now Mrs. Dyer). Her Perſon may put us in mind of her Mother; but ſhe is a happy Stranger to any Failing of her's. Mrs. Bullock died in this Kingdom in the Year 1739.

A Scion oft proves diff'rent from the Root,
And better Branches will yield better Fruit.

Miſs BELLAMY.

[113]

THIS young and amiable Actreſs was born in this Kingdom in the Year 1727. She has a moſt admirable improving Genius; therefore it will be no Wonder, if ſhe ſoon reaches the Top of Perfection. She has a li⯑beral open Heart, to feel and eaſe the Diſtreſſes of the Wretched. How amiable muſt bloom⯑ing Beauty appear, that forms the Mind with every moral Virtue! She has lately left this Kingdom, to the Regret of all Lovers of the Drama. I cannot avoid, upon this Occaſion, ſetting down a few Lines from a Poem on Bellamy; the Motto from Milton.

Grace was in all her Steps, Heav'n in her Eye,
In ev'ry Geſture Dignity and Love.
The Maid, in Action juſt, in Judgment ſtrong,
Exacts our Wonder, and inſpires our Song;
From ſlaviſh Rules, mechanic Forms, unty'd,
She ſoars, with ſacred Nature for her Guide.
The Grace-adorning Smile! the feign'd Deſpair!
The ſoft'ning Sigh! the Soul-diſſolving Tear!
Each magic Charm, lamented Oldfield knew,
Inchanting Bellamy! revives in you.
'Tis thine, O beauteous Maid! the wond'rous Art,
To ſearch the Soul, and trace the various Heart,
[114] With native Grace, with unaffected Eaſe,
To form the yielding Paſſions, as you pleaſe.
Oldmixon n, Syren-voice, improv'd by Art,
Steals ſoftly on the Song-enamour'd Heart;
But ah! how weak, how feebly, muſt ſhe wound,
The Maid whoſe chiefeſt Charm conſiſts in Sound.
Or ſhould Mechel o, all languiſhing, advance,
Her Limbs diſſolv'd in well-conducted Dance
(The Soul untouch'd), ſhe may ſubdue the Sight:
But breathing Wit with Judgment muſt unite,
To give the Man of Reaſon unconfin'd Delight.

COLLEY CIBBER, Eſq

THIS great Actor, as well as Author, was once in this Kingdom, many Years age, which I gather'd from his ſaying he landed in the Night; and when he aſk'd what Place they were in, was anſwer'd, Ringſend. O! then I am ſure we are right; meaning the Anſwer a [...] a native Blunder. But, to reſcue that Place from the Aſperſion, I am credibly inform'd, it was the original Dwelling of a Perſon whoſe Surname was Ring, and from him took its De⯑nomination. The Father of this Gentleman was a Native of Holſtein p, a Statuary by Pro⯑feſſion, [115] without his Equal in this Kingdom. The Figures over the Gate of Bethlehem (or Bedlam, as it is vulgarly call'd) in Moorfields, and the Pedeſtal, or Baſe, of the Monument q, were carv'd by him.

[116] Mr. Colley Cibber, the Son of this great Artiſt, was born the Sixth of November 1671. in Lon⯑don; but I ſhall refer the Reader to the Apo⯑logy for his own Life, printed for G. Faulkner. The excellent Dramatic Works of this Author are,

  • 1. Love's laſt Shift; or, The Fool in Fa⯑ſhion. 1696.
  • 2. Woman's Wit; or, The Lady in Fa⯑ſhion. 1697.
  • 3. Xerxes; a Tragedy. 1699.
  • 4. Love makes a Man; or, The Fop's For⯑tune. 1700.
  • 5. The Careleſs Huſband. 1704.
  • 6. The Lady's laſt Stake; or, The Wife's Reſentment. 1708.
  • 7. The Comical Lovers.
  • 8. She Wou'd and ſhe Wou'd Not; or, The kind Impoſtor.
  • 9. Richard the Third.
  • 10. The Rival Fools.
  • 11. Perolla and Izadora, a Tragedy.
  • 12. The Double Gallant; or, The Sick Lady's Cure.
  • 13. The School-boy.
  • 14. The Nonjuror. 1717.
  • 15. Venus and Adonis, a Maſque; ſet to Muſic. 1717.
  • 16. Myrtilla, a Maſque. 1717.
  • 17. The Refuſal; or, The Lady's Philo⯑ſophy. 1720.
  • 18. Ximena; or, The Heroic Daughter.
  • 19. Caeſar in Egypt. 1725.
  • 20. The Provok'd Huſband; or, A Jour⯑ney to London. 1727.
  • 21. Love in a Riddle. 1728.
  • 22. Damon and Phillida.
  • 23. Papal Tyranny in the Reign of King John.
  • 24. The Country Wake.

Beſides theſe Dramatic Pieces, he has wrote innumerable Songs, Prologues, &c. ſeveral humorous Pamphlets, the excellent Apology for his own Life, and a Critic upon Middleton's Tranſlation of Cicero.

As Envy ſeldom attacks any other Object but conſpicuous Merit, this Gentleman was ge⯑nerally attack'd by the Tribe of Scribblers, his cotemporary Authors, that, Like Village-curs, bark when their Fellows do; which he regarded not; and if he ever ſeem'd to rouſe, it was like the Lion in Don Quixot: Riſe, ſtretch, and p—ſs in his Face.

[118] As to his Perſon, he is ſtrait, and well made; of an open Countenance, even free from the conſpicuous Marks of old Age. Meet or fol⯑low him, and no Perſon would imagine he ever bore the Burden of above two Thirds of his Years. He is Head of a numerous Fa⯑mily; and it might be ſaid, as a German Au⯑thor writes of the Neſtorian Lady Malburges, of that Country;

Mater ait natae, Dic natae, filia natam
Ut moneat natae plangere filiolam.
"The aged Mother to her Daughter ſpake,
"Daughter, ſaid ſhe, ariſe!
"Thy Daughter to her Daughter take,
"Whoſe Daughter's Daughter cries."

Mr. THEOPHILUS CIBBER.

THIS Gentleman came into the World on the Day of the great and deſtructive Storm in 1703. whoſe Rage rang'd over the greateſt Part of Europe, but, I think, moſt fatal to England. He is Son to Colley Cibber, Eſq that excellent Comedian, the preſent Poet Lau⯑reat, whoſe dramatic Works are ſo well known.

Mr. Theophilus Cibber receiv'd his Education at Wincheſter School: His ſtrong Genius for the Theatre brought him early upon the Stage, where he has appear'd in full Luſtre in the va⯑rious Branches of Comedy; and tho' he has [119] perform'd ſeveral Parts in Tragedy with Suc⯑ceſs, in my Imagination the Sock ſits eaſier up⯑on him than the Buſkin. His firſt Wife, men⯑tion'd in the Account of Mrs. Clive, was Miſs Johnſon, by whom he had two Daughters. The eldeſt, I am inform'd, has appear'd on the Stage with great Proſpect of excelling, firſt in the Part of Juliet, in Romeo and Juliet, by Shakeſpear. His ſecond Wife, Miſs Arne (by whom he has no living Iſſue), is arriv'd at the higheſt Pitch of Excellence in the amiable, ſoft, and tender.

Mr. Theophilus Cibber has appear'd twice as a dramatic Author; viz. firſt, Henry the Sixth, alter'd from Shakeſpear, which was play'd in the Summer-ſeaſon of 1721. without any Cri⯑ticks laying hold of it: His ſecond Perform⯑ance in the Drama was, a Comedy call'd The Lover; but as the Criticks were always ready arm'd to attack the Father, they drew their Indignation on the Son, with the falſe Ima⯑gination that the Father was the conceal'd Au⯑thor. But I am poſitively convinced to the contrary; for that Gentleman to me refus'd the Sight of it before it appear'd on the Stage, for the very Reaſons, he ſuſpected, that fell out ac⯑cordingly. However, he wrote an Epilogue, that was ſpoken by Mr. Theophilus and his Wife, that took away the Sting of the Revelrout, and the Play was perform'd ſix Nights in the Year 1731. The Epilogue, for its Singularity, I ſhall inſert here.

EPILOGUE, Spoken by the AUTHOR, and his WIFE.
[120]
Wife.
NOW, I ſuppoſe, you'll find your Work is done;
Did not I ſay—you were your Father's Son?
Be what it might, your Play, the Town wou'd game it,
That your bare Name were half a Cauſe to damn it?
Experience, to your Coſt, will ſhew you now,
Who wears the wiſer Head, your Wife, or you.
Author.
Tho' all this ſhou'd be true, my pretty Rogue,
Yet what's all this, dear Jane, to th' Epilogue?
Wife.
Why, what's an Epilogue to ſuch a Play?
Will it be ſav'd, by ought that I can ſay?
Author.
No matter what's its Merit—no, my Dear,
When many a Huſband's Caſe has known De⯑ſpair,
A wheedling Wife has brought the Thing to bear.
Wife.
O, I'm your humble Servant, humble Sir!
Now you're diſtreſs'd, you my weak Head pre⯑fer—
No, Sir, ſince you have had your Frolick, pay it—
When you have rais'd the Storm, your Wife muſt lay it.
Author.
[121]
I'll give you Compoſition, gentle Spouſe,
All my clear Benefit of my Third-day's Houſe,
Wife.
Which may amount to—not one ſingle Souſe.
Author.
Were mine, alone, the Caſe, that may be true;
Yet to your very Sex ſome Pity's due:
They'll not, with me, deſtroy the Guiltleſs, too.
Wife
To the Audience.
Gallants, in this,
I hope, he has touch'd your Hearts;
Let not me ſuffer for his weak Deſerts:
Do not to laſt Extremes your Cenſure drive;
Give us, at leaſt, an honeſt Chance to live.
Our Fate is in your Hands—If you are brave,
You'll think the Triumph leſs to ruin, than to ſave.

This Comedy the Author dedicated to his Wife, in order to make a perfect Agreement between them. He has alſo wrote ſeveral ſmall Pieces in Verſe and Proſe, occaſionally, beſides ſeveral Letters in an odd Diſpute be⯑tween him and Mr. Thomas Sheridan, printed here, and in London.

I ſhall not meddle with conjugal Affairs; theſe ſhort Memoirs would ſwell too large, and the Belly, out of Proportion for the Body, ap⯑pear dropſical, and require Tapping.

Then draw a Veil o'er what muſt be conceal'd,
To hide thoſe Faults that ſhould not be reveal'd.

Mrs. CIBBER.

[122]

THIS true and perfect Actreſs was Daughter to Mr. Arne, an eminent Up⯑holder in Covent-Garden. Her firſt Appearance on the Stage was as a Singer; her Voice and Judgment gain'd her univerſal Applauſe: But when ſhe commenced a ſpeaking Actreſs, ſhe charm'd anew. Her firſt Appearance was in the Part of Zara, to the Admiration of every Spectator that had their auricular Faculties; and, ſince that, has prov'd herſelf the Daughter of Nature in Perfection. I ſhall add a Prologue wrote by the Laureat, on her firſt appearing in the Part of Zara, and leave her to enjoy her deſerved Praiſe.

Spoke by Mr. CIBBER.

THE French, howe'er Mercurial they may ſeem,
Extinguiſh Half their Fire by critic Phlegm;
While Engliſh Writers Nature's Freedom claim,
And warm their Scenes with an ungovern'd Flame.
'Tis ſtrange that Nature never ſhould inſpire
A Racine's Judgment with a Shakeſpear's Fire!
Howe'er, To-night (to promiſe much we're loth)
But—you've a Chance to have a Taſte of both.
[123] From Engliſh Plays Zara's French Author fir'd,
Confeſs'd his Muſe beyond herſelf inſpir'd:
From rack'd Othello's Rage he rais'd his Style,
And ſnatch'd the Brand that lights this tragic Pile:
Zara's Succeſs his utmoſt Hopes outflew,
And a twice twentieth weeping Audience drew.
As for our Engliſh Friend, he leaves to you,
Whate'er may ſeem to his Performance due.
No Views of Gain his Hopes or Fears engage,
He gives a Child of Leiſure to the Stage;
Willing to try, if yet forſaken Nature
Can charm, with any one remember'd Feature.
Thus far the Author ſpeaks—But now the Player
With trembling Heart preſents his humble Prayer.
To-night, the greateſt Venture of my Life
Is loſt, or ſav'd, as you receive—a Wife.
If Time, you think, may ripen her to Merit,
With gentle Smiles ſupport her wav'ring Spirit.
Zara, in France, at once an Actreſs rais'd,
Warm'd into Skill by being kindly prais'd:
O! could ſuch Wonders here from Favour flow,
How would our Zara's Heart with Tranſport glow!
But ſhe, alas! by juſter Fears oppreſt,
Begs but your bare Endurance, at the beſt:
Her unſkill'd Tongue would ſimple Nature ſpeak
Nor dares her Bounds for falſe Applauſes break.
Amidſt a thouſand Faults, her beſt Pretence
To pleaſe—is unpreſuming Innocence.
[124] When a chaſte Heart's Diſtreſs your Grief de⯑mands,
One ſilent Tear outweighs a thouſand Hands.
If ſhe conveys the pleaſing Paſſions right,
Guard and ſupport her this deciſive Night.
If ſhe miſtakes, or finds her Strength too ſmall,
Let interpoſing Pity break her Fall—
In you it reſts to ſave her, or deſtroy.
If ſhe draws Tears from you—I weep—for Joy.

Mr. OLIVER CASHEL.

I Know little more of this Gentleman, than that he was born in Ireland, of a very an⯑tient reputable Family. He commenced Actor in this Kingdom, where he made but ſlow Progreſs, as I have been inform'd. He was recommended to the Manager in Drury-lam by his Friend and Countryman Mr. Charles Macklin, who brought him from the Briſtol Theatre, where they both play'd the Summer before, I think in the Year 1738.

The firſt Part he play'd on Drury-lam Theatre was, Sir Julius Caefar in Sir Walter Ralegh, where his good Figure was his beſt Friend; for Fear had made his Voice not his own (if I may be allow'd that Term). It is a Theatrical Obſervation, that Fear, in the firſt ſetting-out Attempt on the Stage, is not an il Omen; for many, that have ſet on without it [125] have play'd their beſt, and never mended af⯑terwards. This Gentleman is one Proof of it; for he got the better of his Fear, proving a very good Theatrical Officer in a little Time r: And I hear, ſince I have left England, has ſo far excelled in Captain Macheath in the Beg⯑gars Opera (which requires a good Singer, to the Qualifications of a good Actor), that his Merit has given this excellent Piece a large freſh Run in Covent-garden, which he went to from Drury-lane, eight or nine Years ago.

This Gentleman died at Norwich (the ca⯑pital City of the County of Norfolk). He was taken ſpeechleſs on the Stage in the Part of Frankly, in a Comedy call'd The Suſpicious Huſband: He was carried to his Lodgings, where Phyſicians and Surgeons attended, but to no Purpoſe; for he expired in a few Hours, in ſpight of the Doctor.

Death eaſes Lovers, ſets the Captive free,
And, tho' a Tyrant, offers Liberty.

Mrs. CATHARINE CLIVE (formerly Miſs RAFTOR).

[126]

THIS celebrated natural Actreſs was the Daughter of Mr. William Raftor, a Gen⯑tleman born in the City of Kilkenny in Ireland. The Father of her Father was poſſeſſed of a conſiderable Paternal Eſtate in the County where he was born; but the Parent of our Actreſs being unhappily attach'd to the unfor⯑tunate King James the Second, the late Revo⯑lution gave it, among many others, to the Crown. Mr. James Raftor, her Brother, went over to Ireland, ſome Years ago, in order to ſolicit for his Grandfather's Fortune; but did not meet with Succeſs.

Mr. William Raftor, the Father, was bred to the Law; however, when King James was in Ireland, he enter'd into his Service; and, after the deciſive Battle of the Boyne, in the Year 1690. he follow'd his Maſter's Fortune, and, by his Merit, obtain'd a Captain's Com⯑miſſion in the Service of Lewis the Four⯑teenth; but, gaining a Pardon, with many other Gentlemen in his Condition, he came to England, where he married Mrs. Daniel, Daughter to an eminent Citizen on Fiſhſtreet⯑hill, with whom he had a handſome Fortune: By her he had a numerous Iſſue.

[127] Miſs Catharine was born in the Year 1711. She had an early Genius for the Stage; for ſhe told me, when ſhe was about twelve Years old, Miſs Johnſon (afterwards the firſt Wife of Mr. Theo. Cibber, another riſing Genius, if Death had not overtaken her in her Prime of Youth) and ſhe, uſed to tag after the celebrated Mr. Wilks (her own Words) whenever they ſaw him in the Streets, and gape at him as a Wonder.

Miſs Raftor had a facetious Turn of Hu⯑mour, and infinite Spirits, with a Voice and Manner in finging Songs of Pleaſantry peculiar to herſelf. Thoſe Talents Mr. Theo. Cibber and I (we all at that Time living together in one Houſe) thought a ſufficient Paſport to the Theatre. We recommended her to the Lau⯑reat, whoſe infallible Judgment ſoon found out her Excellencies; and the Moment he heard her ſing, put her down in the Liſt of Perfor⯑mers at twenty Shillings per Week. But never any Perſon of her Age flew to Perfection with ſuch Rapidity; and the old diſcerning Mana⯑gers always diſtinguiſh'd Merit by Reward. Her firſt Appearance was in the Play of Mith⯑ridates King of Pontus, in Iſmenes the Page to Ziphares, in Boy's Cloaths, where a Song pro⯑per to the Circumſtances of the Scene was in⯑troduced, which ſhe performed with extraor⯑dinary Applauſe. But after this, like a Bullet in the Air, there was no diſtinguiſhing the Track, till it came to its utmoſt Execution.

I remember the firſt Night of Love in a Rid⯑dle (which was murdered in the ſame Year) a [128] Paſtoral Opera wrote by the Laureat, which the Hydra-headed Multitude reſolv'd to worry without hearing, a Cuſtom with Authors of Merit, when Miſs Raftor came on in the Part of Phillida, the monſtrous Roar ſubſided. A Perſon in the Stage Box, next to my Poſt, called out to his Companion in the following elegant Stile—‘Zounds, Tom! take Care; or this charming little Devil will ſave all.’

In the Year 1732. ſhe was marry'd to Mr. G. Clive, Son to Mr. Baron Clive. I ſhall be ſilent in conjugal Affairs; but in all my long Acquaintance with her, I could never ima⯑gine ſhe deſerved ill Uſage.

I ſhall take Leave of this excellent Actreſs with the following Lines (as every Part cannot fit the beſt Performers):

Merit miſtaken oft may loſe its Way,
And pore in Darkneſs with the Blaze of Day.

Mademoiſelle CHATEAUNEUF.

THIS agreeable Dancer (as ſhe play'd Polly in the Beggars Opera, &c.) muſt come under my Cognizance. She was born in France, what Town or Province, has ſtole from my Memory. Her real Name was not what ſhe bore. She was in her Infancy an Orphan, and Monſieur Chateauneuf took her from her Diſtreſſes, and bred her up as his own Daugh⯑ter. Her Virtue never was tainted in moſt [129] Peoples Opinion; but as our immortal Shake⯑ſpear ſays,

Be thou as chaſte as Ice, as pure as Snow,
Thou ſhalt not 'ſcape Calumny.

When I was inſtructing her in the Part of Polly, ſhe told me, a Lady that Morning was ſurpriſed to hear from a Gentleman of her Ac⯑quaintance, that ſhe was taken for a Boy in Diſguiſe. (This Gentleman, it ſeems, was a Perſon that would have been very willing to have been certain of the Diſtinction of Sexes.) I told the Lady, ſaid Miſs Chateauneuf, I was very glad he knew no more of me. Which I think was a quick and witty Anſwer. She was born the ſame Day that our young Hero the Duke came into the World, April 15. 1721.

Since leaving this Kingdom ſhe is marry'd to her ſuppoſed Father, Monſieur Chateauneuf; and now it is made her real Name. This In⯑telligence I had from a Gentleman that lately came from Bourdeaux a, where he converſed [130] with them, being at the Head of a Troop of Comedians of their own, where he heard Ma⯑dem Chateauneuf ſing ſeveral Engliſh Songs by Deſire of the Audience, particularly the Song of Roſy Wine from the Maſque of Comus altered from Milton.

Thus Midwife Time brings many Things to Light,
That long lay hid within the Womb of Night.

Mrs. CHETWOOD.

SHE was upon this Stage in the Year 1741. an agreeable Actreſs, when the Part ſuited her Voice; a tolerable Dancer, and a plea⯑ſing Colombine. Being Grand-daughter to the preſent Laureat, 'tis no Wonder if ſhe had a little Wit.

But Wit and Wiſdom ſeldom well agree:
Wiſdom would fetter what the Wit would free.

Mr. DENIS DELANE,

IS a Native of Ireland, deſcended from an antient Family. He received his Educa⯑tion in Trinity College, Dublin, a Fountain of Learning, whoſe Streams have watered the Univerſe.

[131] He appeared firſt on the Dublin Stage, and was very well received; his Perſon and ex⯑cellent Voice, joined with his other Merits, gained him the Eſteem as he juſtly deſerved. However, he ſet out for London, where he was recommended to the Managers of Drury-Lane, I think in the Year 1731. but their Company being brimful, even to the running over, the Managers did not give him the Encourage⯑ment that the Promiſe of his Voice and Per⯑ſon deſerved. Mr. Giffard took hold of the Occaſion, and engaged him for his Theatre in Goodman's-Fields, where he had a better Op⯑portunity of ſhining without any Rival Ray. Mr. Quin, as I am inform'd (who can diſtin⯑guiſh Merit from his own ſuperior Judgment), prevailed upon him to leave that Corner of the Town, and act on the ſame Stage with him (Covent-Garden). Perſons of the Drama may be compared to the Swiſs-Cantons, willing to fight for thoſe who give the beſt Pay; there⯑fore it is no Novelty to ſee them change Sides.

Mr. Delane is now marching under the Ban⯑ner of Covent-Garden. He has an Eſtate in this Kingdom, and came over laſt Year (tho' I had not the Pleaſure of ſeeing him). I am informed he is inclining more to the Bulky ſince I ſaw him laſt, which is a Recommendation to many capital Parts that may ſit eaſy, and give Plea⯑ſure, when the Bloom of Youth is gone.

Truncheons, or Lawn, do ſeldom Youth become,
For diſtant War, or Biſhopricks at Home.

Mr. DYER,

[132]

IS not only a uſeful, but a very pleaſing Actor; his good Voice, and eaſy-acquired Manner, gives him a Caſt above many of his Cotemporaries, being the beſt allowed Singer on the Dublin Theatre, that is not a profeſs'd Singer. I am no Friend to Mimicry, yet if I could be pleaſed with that natural Qualifica⯑tion (if I may be allowed to call it ſo), I do not know one could give me more Pleaſure than Mr. Dyer; for he can take off (as the Theatri⯑cal Term expreſſes it) not only every Actor, Male and Female, he has ſeen and heard, worth mimicking, but alſo Singers and Dancers, foreign and domeſtic. All theſe Qualifications, join'd to a good Underſtanding, will render him acceptable in any Theatre.

A juſt Behaviour claims a due Regard,
Tho' Modeſty will fail to meet Reward.

THOMAS ELRINGTON, Eſq

THIS excellent Actor was born in June 1688. in London. His Father having a numerous Iſſue, put his Son Apprentice to an Upholder in Covent-Garden, where I was firſt acquainted with him. He was early ad⯑dicted to the Drama. I remember, when he was an Apprentice, we play'd in ſeveral private [133] Plays together: when we were preparing to act Sophonisba, or, Hannibal's Overthrow, af⯑ter I had wrote out my Part of Maſſiva, I car⯑ried him the Book of the Play to ſtudy the Part of King Maſiniſſa; I found him finiſhing a Velvet Cuſhion, and gave him the Book; but alas! before he could ſecrete it, his Maſter (a hot voluble Frenchman) came in upon us, and the Book was thruſt under the Velvet of the Cuſhion. His Maſter, as uſual, rated him for not working, with a Mortbleu! why a you not vark, Tom? and ſtood over him ſo long, that I ſaw, with ſome Mortification, the Book irrecoverably ſtitch'd up in the Cuſhion, ne⯑ver to be retriev'd till the Cuſhion is worn to Pieces. Poor Tom caſt many a deſponding Look upon me when he was finiſhing the Fate of the Play, while every Stitch went to both our Hearts. His Maſter obſerving our Looks, turn'd to me, and with Words that broke their Necks over each other for Haſte, abuſed both of us: The moſt intelligible of his great Num⯑ber of Words, were Jack Pudenges, and the like Expreſſions of Contempt.

But our Play was gone for ever! Another time we were ſo bold to attempt Shakeſpear's Hamlet, where our 'Prentice Tom had the Part of the Ghoſt, Father to young Hamlet. His Armour was compoſed of Paſteboard, neatly painted. The Frenchman had Intelligence of what we were about, and to our great Surprize and Mortification, made one of our Audience. The Ghoſt in its firſt Appearance is dumb to [134] Horatio. While theſe Scenes paſt, the French⯑man only muttered between his Teeth, and we were in Hopes his Paſſion would ſubſide; but when our Ghoſt began his firſt Speech to Ham⯑let, Mark me, he reply'd, Begar me vil marke you preſently! and, without ſaying any more, beat our poor Ghoſt off the Stage through the Street, while every Stroke on the Paſteboard Armour grieved the Auditors (becauſe they did not pay for their Seats) inſomuch that three or four ran after the Ghoſt, and brought him back in Triumph, with the avenging French⯑man at his Heels, who would not be appeas'd till our Ghoſt promiſed him never to commit the Offence of Acting again. A Promiſe made like many others, never intended to be kept. However, in the laſt Year of his Time, his rigid Maſter gave him a little more Liber⯑ty, and our young Actor play'd different Parts, till he was taken Notice of by Mr. Keene, an excellent Player at that Time. He was intro⯑duced upon the Stage in the Part of Oroonoko, where he met with a good Reception in the Year 1711.

The next Seaſon he was invited over by Joſeph Aſhbury, Eſq and in the Year 1713. wedded the Daughter of that worthy Gentle⯑man, by whom he had a numerous Iſſue, par⯑ticularly three Sons, who are now alive; the eldeſt, Mr. Joſeph Elrington, who makes a con⯑ſiderable Figure on the preſent Theatre here; Mr. Richard Elrington, now of a Country Com⯑pany in England; and Mr. Thomas Elrington, [135] the youngeſt, firſt an Enſign, now a Lieutenant in Colonel Flemming's Regiment in Flanders.

Mr. Elrington the Father was a true Copy of Mr. Verbruggen, a very great Actor in Tra⯑gedy, and polite Parts in Comedy; but the former had an infinite Fund of (what is called Low) Humour upon the Stage. I have ſeen him perform Don Cholerick in the Fop's Fortune with infinite Pleaſure; he entered into the true Humour of the Character, equal to the Ori⯑ginal, Mr. William Penkethman. His Voice was manly, ſtrong, and ſweetly full-ton'd; his Figure tall and well-proportion'd. His eldeſt Son, Mr. Joſeph Elrington, is moſt like him in Perſon and Countenance.

This excellent Player ſucceeded his Father-in-law, Joſeph Aſhbury, Eſq in the Place of Steward of the King's-Inns; and the more to eſtabliſh him in the Kingdom, a Poſt was given him of fifty Pounds a Year in the Quit-Rent Office; alſo Gunner to the Train of Artillery, a Gift of the Lord Mountjoy, Father to the preſent Earl of Bleſſington, which at the Death of that noble Lord, he got Permiſſion to diſ⯑poſe of. He was a Gentleman of Honour, Humanity, and extenſive Good-nature, of a facetious well manner'd Converſation, a little too deſirable for his Health, from Company of the beſt Condition. He was taken ill the very Day he was conſulting a Plan for a new Theatre, after the Form of that in Drury-Lane, London, with an eminent Builder of this City. He went home, where his Malady increas'd to a violent [136] Pleuritic Fever, which never left him (not⯑withſtanding all the Phyſicians Art) till he ex⯑pir'd July 22. 1732 a.

I ſhall leave him to eternal Reſt, with the following Lines, and a ſhort Epitaph.

Thus, when our ſtated Time of Life is come,
And Pow'r Almighty has pronounc'd our Doom;
The beſt Phyſician's Art is ſhewn in vain,
And Death's the Doctor that muſt end our Pain.
EPITAPH, On THOMAS ELRINGTON, Eſq
THOU beſt of Actors here interr'd,
No more thy charming Voice is heard,
This Grave thy Coarſe contains:
Thy better Part, which us'd to move
Our Admiration, and our Love,
Has fled its ſad Remains.
Tho' there's no monumental Braſs,
Thy ſacred Relicks to encaſe,
Thou wond'rous Man of Art!
A Lover of the Muſe divine,
O! Elrington, ſhall be thy Shrine,
And carve thee in his Heart.

Mr. FRANCIS ELRINGTON,

[137]

WAS born in London in the Year 1692.

He had a ſmall Poſt in the Wardrobe under his Grace the Duke of Montague; but hearing the Succeſs of his elder Brother in Ire⯑land, he left his Poſt, to follow the Call he had to the Stage. By his Theatrical Obſer⯑vations in England, he ſet out in Ireland with Succeſs, improving his Talents ſo well, that he gave the utmoſt Satisfaction in many capital Parts. His Grace the Duke of Dorſet, when Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, gave him a Poſt in the Revenue, which he faithfully executed, and enjoy'd to his Death.

He was in a languiſhing State of Health near two Years; but the laſt Stroke he re⯑ceived at Kilkenny, where Part of the Compa⯑ny were playing during the Time of the Camp being at Bennet's-Bridge; he was carried back to his Houſe in Drumcondra-lane, where, after a few Days Struggle, Death overcame him in Auguſt, 1746. in the 53d Year of his Age, of a Polypus a, to the Regret of all his Ac⯑quaintance.

Mr. RALPH ELRINGTON,

[138]

IS the younger Brother of the late eminent Player Thomas Elrington, Eſq born in England, and came early upon the Stage, tho' without any Countenance (as I have been in⯑form'd) from his Friends and Relations. Since his elder Brother's Death he has under⯑taken many of his Parts, which he copies as near as poſſible.

He was admired ſome Years ago as a good executing Harlequin, Agility and Strength be⯑ing two main Ingredients in the Compoſition of that motly Gentleman, where Heels are of more Uſe than the Head. In one of his Feats of Activity he was much hurt, and was in ſome Danger of breaking his Neck to pleaſe the Spectators, the Ears having little to do in ſuch Entertainments; yet this unlucky Spring met with univerſal Applauſe.

I remember a Tumbler in the Hay-market Theatre in London by ſuch an Accident beat the Breath out of his Body, which raiſed ſuch vociferous Applauſe, that laſted longer than the vent'rous Man's Life, for he never breathed more. Indeed his Wife had this Comfort, [139] when the Truth was known, Pity ſucceeded to the Roar of Applauſe.

Another Accident like this, fell out in Dr. Fauſtus, a Pantomime Entertainment in Lin⯑coln's-Inn-Fields Theatre, where a Machine in the Working broke, threw the mock Pierrot down headlong with ſuch Force, that the poor Man broke a Plank on the Stage with his Fall, and expired: Another was ſo ſorely maimed, that he did not ſurvive many Days; and a third, one of the ſofter Sex, broke her Thigh. But to prevent ſuch Accidents for the future, thoſe Perſons are repreſented by inanimate Fi⯑gures, ſo that if they break a Neck, a Leg, or an Arm, there needs no Surgeon.

Another Accident of the ſame Kind hap⯑pened in Smock-alley, which gave me much Concern, as having a Hand in the Contrivance. The late Mr. Morgan being to fly on the Back of a Witch, in the Lancaſhire Witches, thro' the Ignorance of the Workers in the Machine⯑ry, the Fly broke, and they both fell toge⯑ther, but thro' Providence they neither of them were much hurt; and ſuch Care was taken afterwards, that no Accident of that Kind could happen.

When Danger's fled, it dwells upon the Mind,
And leaves the ſtrong Impreſſion ſtill behind.

Mr. RICHARD ESTCOURT.

[140]

THIS excellent Comedian was born at Tewksbury, in the County of Glouceſter, in the Year 1668. where he received his Edu⯑cation in the Latin School of that Town. He had an early Deſire for the Stage; for, in the 15th Year of his Age, he ſtole from his Fa⯑ther's Houſe with a Country Company, and at Worceſter, for fear of being known, ſet out with the Part of Roxana, in Woman's Appa⯑rel (in Alexander the Great); but his Father, having Notice of it, ſent to ſecure the Fugi⯑tive, who made his Eſcape in a Suit of Wo⯑man's Cloaths that he borrowed of one of the Itinerant Ladies, and trudg'd it to Chipping-Norton, a Corporation-town in Oxfordſhire, twenty-five long Miles in one Day. When he came to the Inn, Beds were ſcarce, and he was obliged to take up with that of the Daughter's behind the Bar: The young Woman, going to Bed, found the wearied Traveller in a pro⯑found Sleep; but, obſerving the Shirt inſtead of a Shift, ſhe began to ſuſpect her deſign'd Bed⯑fellow; and, ſtooping to look on the Dreſs that lay upon the Ground, ſhe ſaw a Pair of Man's Shoes under the Bed, that convinced her ſhe might have been in an odd Situation, if ſhe had gone to Bed in the Dark. She, upon the Diſ⯑covery, inſtantly called in the People of the Houſe, and waked our drowſy Traveller. The [141] Landlord had deſigned to carry him decently to the Horſe-pond, till Dick made a true Con⯑feſſion of the whole Affair. By Accident, a Perſon of the Town of Tewksbury put up at the ſaid Inn that Night, who knew our young diſguiſed Wanderer; and that Knowlege ſigned his Pardon. In two Days afterwards his Cloaths were brought him from Worceſter, ac⯑companied with a Meſſenger from his Father, who led him the Road home again.

Soon after, the Father went with him to London, where he bound him faſt to an Apo⯑thecary in Hatton-garden. He was too impa⯑tient to wait ſo long a Time for Liberty; there⯑fore he ſtretched his Bonds till they broke, and, after an itinerant Life two Years in England, he went to try his Fortune in Ireland, where he ſhone in an exalted theatrical Sphere for ſome Years, when he returned to London; where, by his Wit, and mimic Humour, his Converſation was taken up by Perſons of the higheſt Rank, and Parts.

He was made Providore of the Beef-Stake-Club, and, for a Mark of Diſtinction, wore their Badge, which was a ſmall Gridiron of Gold, hung about his Neck with a green ſilk Ribband. This Club was compos'd of the chief Wits and great Men of the Nation.

Mr. Eſtcourt was the original Serjeant Kite, and every Night of Performance entertained the Audience with Variety of little Catches, and Flights of Humour, that pleaſed all but his Critics. He was a great Favourite with [142] the late Duke of Marlborough, whoſe juſt Fame he celebrated in ſeveral out-of-the way witty Ballads. He was Author of a Comedy called The Wife's Excuſe; or, Cuckolds make them⯑ſelves; and acted at the Theatre-Royal in the Year 1706. but, as I have been informed, with moderate Succeſs. Another little Piece was produced by him, call'd Prunella, a Bur⯑leſque upon the Italian Operas, then ſtole into Faſhion, too much ſupported by the excellent Voice and Judgment of Mrs. Tofts: But ſuch an odd Medley—Mrs. Tofts, a mere Engliſh⯑woman, in the Part of Camilla, courted by Ni⯑colini in Italian, without underſtanding one ſingle Syllable each other ſaid or ſung; and, on the other Hand, Valentini courting amo⯑rouſly, in the ſame Language, a Dutchwoman, that committed Murder on our good old Eng⯑liſh, with as little Underſtanding as a Parrot: Though it was reported a Lady, of ſome Qua⯑lity, fell deſperately in Love with Nicolini; which occaſioned the following Lines, that were pinn'd to Nicolini's Coat in a Chocolate⯑houſe.

Soft thrilling Notes, ſwell'd out with Art,
May wound, alas! the fair one's Heart;
Yet theſe Italians will not feel;
The Wounds they give, they cannot heal.

Yet, notwithſtanding the Laſhes given by Eſt⯑court, and others, the enervating Weakneſs took more Hold, like Folly, and new Sects in [143] Religion. Perſecution but gains more Proſe⯑lytes.

This celebrated Comedian paid his Debt to Nature in the Year 1733. after leaving the Stage ſome Years. Sir Richard Steele gives him this Character, in his Lucubrations: "An excellent Companion, one who was perfectly Maſter of well-turned Compliments, as well as ſmart Repartees; which ſhews a ready Wit w."

Mr. JOHN EVANS.

THIS Perſon was an Actor of very good Repute in this Kingdom, join'd in the Management with Mr. Thomas Elrington, Mr. Thomas Griffith, &c. His Perſon was incline⯑able to the Groſs; therefore wanted Delicacy for the amiable Parts; he had an excellent har⯑monious Voice, and juſt Delivery, but a little too indolent for much Study or Contemplation.

[144] In the laſt Year of the Reign of Queen Anne, the Company of Dublin went down, in the Sum⯑mer Seaſon, to play at Corke: One Evening Mr. Evans was invited, by ſome Officers of a Regiment then on Duty in that City, to a Ta⯑vern: Many Healths were propos'd, and went round, without Reluctance; when it came to Mr. Evans's Turn, he propoſed the Health of her Majeſty Queen Anne, which ſo much diſ⯑guſted one of the Company (tho' cloath'd in the Livery of his Royal Miſtreſs), that he ran down Stairs, and ſent up a Drawer to whiſper Mr. Evans; who immediately put on his Sword, and went after him, without taking the leaſt Notice to the Company. He found his Anta⯑goniſt in a Room in the Paſſage of the Tavern, with the Door half open, who courageouſly made a Thruſt at Mr. Evans, which he put by with his left Hand; at this, Mr. Evans drew, thruſt the Door wide open, enter'd, and ſoon drove his Oppoſer out to the Paſſage, where he diſarmed the doughty Hero, before the Com⯑pany above Stairs knew any thing of the Mat⯑ter. The reſt of the military Gentlemen ex⯑preſſed an Abhorrence to the Treatment Mr. Evans received, and, ſeemingly, reconciled them on the Spot; but, notwithſtanding, when the Company return'd to Dublin, the Perſon who ſent the Challenge up Stairs at Corke, being then returned alſo, told his own Story in ſuch a Man⯑ner, that ſeveral warm Gentlemen of the Army were made to believe, that Mr. Evans had af⯑fronted the whole Body Military; and when the [145] poor ſuppos'd Culprit came to his Buſineſs of the Theatre, their Clamour, in the Audience, was ſo great, that the Houſe was diſmiſs'd, and no Play to be acted till Mr. Evans had aſked public Pardon upon the Stage. His high Spi⯑rit was, with great Difficulty, brought to ſub⯑mit, but at laſt he conſented. I remember the Play was, The Rival Queens; or, The Death of Alexander the Great; the Part of Alexander to be acted by the Delinquent. He came to aſk Pardon before the Curtain: When he addreſs'd the Audience, one Smart, from the Pit, cried out, Kneel, you Raſcal! Evans, then collected in himſelf, replied, in the ſame Tone of Voice, No, you Raſcal! I'll kneel to none but God, and my Queen! A dangerous Paroxyſm, at ſuch a Criſis. However, as there were many worthy Gentlemen of the Army who knew the whole Affair, the new-rais'd Clamour ceas'd, and the Play went through without any Moleſtation, and, by Degrees, Things return'd to their pro⯑per Chanel. By this we may ſee, it is ſome Danger for an Actor to be in the right.

Three Years after this Affair, Mr. Evans went to the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, and, in his Journey back to Ireland, was taken ill of a Fever, at the Town of Whitchurch in Shorpſhire; from whence he was removed, for better Advice, to Cheſter, where he ended his Progreſs of Life, in the 41ſt Year of his Age; and was privately buried in the Cathedral, with⯑out Monument, Stone, or Inſcription.

[146]
Thus may great Merit in Oblivion lie,
And reſt forgotten to Eternity.

Mr. WILLIAM ESTE.

THIS Gentleman was related to the late Biſhop of Waterford. He died in the Prime of Youth, in the Year 1743. 'Tis a Pity he took ſuch Pains in getting the better of his Conſtitution; but he ſucceeded at a Time when he might have made ſome Figure on the Stage. He had Qualifications ſufficient for Improve⯑ment, ſome Learning, a Perſon amiable, a ſweet Voice, and ſung not unpleaſingly: Not⯑withſtanding, the Neglect of himſelf depreciated his Merit. He truly made out a Saying of that late great Comedian Mr. Wilks: "The Man that drinks a Glaſs of ſtrong Liquor in a Morning, for every one he ſwallows, drives a Nail in his Coffin." Many a Genius has been drown'd in Drink. I remember an Au⯑thor, whoſe ſweet Writings will keep his Me⯑mory fragrant, that was ſo much addicted to that Weakneſs, that if there were no other Spi⯑rits to be come at, he would empty a Lady's Hun⯑gary Water-bottle; and yet the flowing Num⯑bers of his Pen ſeem'd as if he had drank no other Liquid but what came from the pure Streams of Helicon. I ſhall end this with Shake⯑ſpear's Reflection from the Mouth of Caſſio in Othello:

[147] ‘O! that Men ſhould put an Enemy in their Mouths to ſteal away their Brains! O! thou inviſible Spirit of Wine! if thou haſt no Name to be known by, let us call thee Devil!’

He died of a lingering Illneſs, the 24th of January 1742-3.

Mrs. ELMY.

HER maiden Name was Mors. She was born in England, but when, or where, I know not x. She has been an Actreſs about ſeventeen Years, began very young, and was enter'd firſt in a Country Company. She knows what ſhe does, as well as what ſhe ſays. She ſeems to have more Spirits off the Stage, in a Chamber, than ſhe has in the public Theatre, which is owing to her weak Voice; but ſhe means very well there. I do not know her well enough to be any Judge of her Morals; there⯑fore I ſhall not ſpeak of what I do not know; and even this I have gathered more from com⯑mon Fame, than my own particular Knowlege: Therefore I ſhall not ſay any more of her, as Fame is a Goſſip not always to be believed, as Hudibras tells us.

There is a tall long-ſided Dame,
But wond'rous light, ycleped Fame:
[148] Two Trumpets ſhe does ſound at once,
But both of clean contrary Tones;
But whether both with the ſame Wind,
Or one before, or one behind,
We know not—only this can tell,
The one ſounds vilely, t'other well:
And therefore vulgar Authors name
The one Good, t'other Evil Fame.

Mr. GEORGE FARQUHAR.

SINCE this Gentleman owes his Birth to this Kingdom, and on the Iriſh Stage com⯑menced Actor, I hope it will not be thought improper to give a ſhort Account of him, which I ſhall take from his Life, that I col⯑lected ſeveral Years paſt, to prefix to his Works. The Materials I received from Mr. Wilks, who approved of them before they went to the Pub⯑liſher.

Mr. George Farquhar was born, in the North of Ireland, of Parents that held no mean Rank in that Part of the Country; who, having a nu⯑merous Iſſue, could beſtow on him no other Fortune than a genteel Education. As thoſe who are bleſs'd with a poetical Genius always ſhew ſome Glimmerings of their Fancy in their Youth; ſo he, ere he arriv'd at his tenth Year, gave ſeveral Specimens of a peculiar Turn that Way. One of his juvenile Productions I ſhall here mention, in which he diſcovered a Way [149] of Thinking, as well as an Elegancy of Ex⯑preſſion, far beyond his Years.

y The pliant Soul of erring Youth
Is, like ſoft Wax, or moiſten'd Clay,
Apt to receive all heav'nly Truth,
Or yield to Tyrant Ill the Sway.
Shun Evil in your early Years,
And Manhood may to Virtue riſe;
But he who, in his Youth, appears
A Fool, in Age will ne'er be wiſe.

He was educated in the Univerſity of Dublin, where he acquired a conſiderable Reputation: He began very early to apply himſelf to the Stage as an Actor, following the Examples of Lee and Otway with our great Shakeſpear, and with like Succeſs; who, tho' all excellent dra⯑matic Poets, made but indifferent Actors. However, Mr. Farquhar, having the Advantage of a very good Perſon, tho' with a weak Voice, was never repulſed by the Audience; but the following Accident made him determine to leave off the Occupation: Playing the Part of Guyomar in the Indian Emperor, who is ſup⯑poſed to kill Vaſquez, one of the Spaniſh Gene⯑rals; not remembring to change his Sword for a Foil z, in the Mock Engagement, he wounded the Perſon that repreſented Vaſquez, tho' (as it [150] fell out) not dangerouſly; nevertheleſs, it put an End to his appearing on the Stage as an Actor.

He was very young when he wrote his firſt Comedy of Love and a Bottle, acted at the The⯑atre Royal in Drury-lane 1698. He was pecu⯑liarly happy in the Choice of his Subjects, which he took Care to adorn with Variety of Characters and Incidents. He laſh'd the Vices of the Age, tho' with a merciful Hand. His Plays were wrote in the following Order:

  • 1. Love and a Bottle, 1698.
  • 2. The Conſtant Couple, 1700. This Piece was play'd 53 Nights the firſt Seaſon.
  • 3. Sir Harry Wildair, the Sequel to the for⯑mer, 1701. 9 Nights.
  • 4. Inconſtant; or, The Way to Win Him; 1703. 11 Nights.
  • 5. Twin Rivals, 1705. 13 Nights.
  • 6. Recruiting Officer, 1707. 15 Nights.
  • 7. The Beaux Stratagem, 1710. 10 Nights.
  • (All acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-lane.)

His laſt Comedy he wrote in ſix Weeks, with a ſettled Illneſs all the Time. He perceived the Approaches of Death before he had finiſh'd the laſt Act, and (as he had often foretold) died before the Run of the Play was over. It was affirm'd, by ſome of his near Acquaintance, his unfortunate Marriage ſhorten'd his Days; for his Wife (by whom he had two Daughters), through the Reputation of a great Fortune, trick'd him into Matrimony. This was chiefly [151] the Fault of her Love, which was ſo violent, that ſhe was reſolv'd to uſe all Arts to gain him. Tho' ſome Huſbands, in ſuch a Caſe, would have proved mere Huſbands; yet he was ſo much charm'd with her Love and Un⯑derſtanding, that he liv'd very happy with her. Therefore when I ſay an unfortunate Marriage, with other Circumſtances, conduced to the ſhortening of his Days; I only mean, that his Fortune, being too ſlender to ſupport a Family, led him into a great many Cares and Inconve⯑niencies: For I have often heard him ſay a, ‘That it was more Pain to him in imagining that his Family might want a needful Sup⯑port, than the moſt violent Death that could be inflicted on him b.’

The Mind diſeas'd ſtrikes Poiſon to the Heart,
And baffles all the beſt Phyſician's Art.

Mr. FOOTE.

[152]

AS I never had the Fortune to be preſent at this Gentleman's public Performance, I cannot pretend to be a competent Judge of his Merit; tho', I muſt own, I have heard him launch out into Mimicry, which might perhaps give Pleaſure to others, but, I muſt own, very little to me.

[153] I remember an Inſtance of this kind of Sa⯑tire in my Youth, that gave Satisfaction to ſome light Hearts, but greater Diſguſt to the more judicious Sort of the Audience.

Mr. George Powell, a reputable Actor, with many Excellencies, gave out, that he would perform the Part of Sir John Falſtaff in the Manner of that very excellent Engliſh Roſcius, Mr. Betterton. He certainly hit his Manner, and Tone of Voice; yet, to make the Picture more like, he mimick'd the Infirmities of Di⯑ſtemper, old Age, and the afflicting Pains of the Gout, which that great Man was often ſeiz'd with. Certainly Mimicry is a Gift from Nature, and laudable, if made uſe of like the antient Mimes, who could dumbly deſcribe every Paſſion of the Mind, and tell a Tale with⯑out a Tongue: But to mimic the Infirmities of Nature, may well be term'd Incivility, Barba⯑rity, and Inhumanity.

I remember D'Urfey, the late Lyric Poet, ſtuttered extremely when in a Paſſion, tho' he could ſpeak an Oration, read a Scene in a Play, or ſing any of his own Songs or Dialogues, without the leaſt Heſitation. He came one Morning to the Rehearſal a little diſturbed about a depending Benefit Play, and aſk'd, in a Paſſion, Wh, wh, where wa, wa, was M, M, Mr. Wi, Wilks? The Drole Penkethman anſwered, H, h, he d, d, did n, n, not kn, kn, know. But the choleric Poet broke his Head for his Joke, and it was with great Difficulty the Bard was appeaſed.

[154] Mimicry, as it now ſtands with us, is like a Statue, larger than the Life, made for a cer⯑tain Height and Diſtance; while upon the Level with you, its coarſe Proportion ſeems monſtrous, and overdone. Many excellent Comedians have had this natural Talent. Mr. Rymer, that great Critic, tells us, that Mr. Mountford was ſo excellently gifted that Way (if we may call it Excellence), that when he was Train-bearer to the late Chancellor Jefferies, in the Reign of King James the Second, at an Entertainment for the moſt eminent Lawyers, his Maſter ordered him to come before him, and plead a feigned Cauſe, which he perform'd with great Eloquence; and in his Pleadings, to the Admiration of all preſent, aſſum'd the Manner and Voice of ſeveral of the beſt Pleaders then at the Bar, even ſome of thoſe that were pre⯑ſent at the Entertainment. As I ſaid before, every thing of this kind muſt be over-done, to make it the more ridiculous; and Actors of great Merit, thus mimick'd, are liable to ſome little Diſgrace, which is neither Juſtice nor Good-nature. I have ſeen Faces painted in a Scene of a Multitude, which is generally uſed in Drury lane Theatre at the Coronation of Anna Bullen, that make moſt ridiculous Fi⯑gures, ſo like to be known; and yet the Per⯑ſons they repreſent have nothing particularly faulty in their Countenance or Figures. But the Painter was a merry Italian Wag, and did it to ſhew his exuberant Fancy.

[155] But to return to Mr. Foote. He is a Gen⯑tleman of a good Family, and ſeems to have ſome Claim to the Eſtate of the Goodieres. One of that Family was, not many Years paſt, murdered by his own Brother at Briſtol. I believe he has Merit, or a Wou'd-be-Wit would not have publiſh'd the following Lines in the News-papers: For, I have obſerved, thoſe that have Merit, are generally liable to beſpattering Defamation. However, here are the Lines.

On a Pſeudo-Player.
THOU Mimic of Cibber—of Garrick thou Ape!
Thou Fop in Othello! thou Cypher in Shape!
Thou Trifle in Perſon! thou Puppet in Voice!
Thou Farce of a Player! thou Rattle for Boys!
Thou Mongrel! thou dirty-face Harlequin Thing!
Thou Puff of bad Paſte! thou Ginger-breadKing!
Was a Quin, or Delane, the Boaſt of our Stage,
Set up as fit Marks for thy Envy, or Rage?
Was a Quin, or Delane, who excel in their Art,
To be ap'd by a Cobler, who bungles his Part?
Thou Mummer in Action! thou Coffee-houſe Jeſter!
Thou Mimic ſans Senſe! Mock Hero in Geſture!
Can the Squeak of a Puppet preſent us a Quin?
Or a Pigmy, or Dwarf, ſhew a Giant's Deſign?
Shall Deficience, unpuniſh'd, at Excellence rail?
Or a Sprat; without Ridicule, mimic a Whale?
[156] Can a Foot repreſent us the Length of a Yard?
Where, then, ſhall ſuch Inſolence meet its Re⯑ward?
Contempt were the beſt, like the Maſtiff that feels,
With ſuperior Deriſion, the Cur at his Heels—
O Ireland! too prone to encourage new Toys!
In Trinkets, and Novelty, fickle as Boys!
O Dublin! alas! to a Proverb well known,
To receive what is foreign, yet ſcoff at thy own;
Learn truly to judge 'twixt a F—t and a Tune:
Applaud the good Player—but damn the Buffoon!

This Poet is too paſſionate to be in the Right; neither would I have inſerted it, if I had not received it incloſed with the following Laconic Epiſtle.

SIR,

I Know what you are about; inſert the in⯑clos'd in its proper Place, or you will neither do yourſelf, or your Readers, Ju⯑ſtice. If you fail, you ſhall hear of it—

Bob!

Notwithſtanding this angry Author, I dare ſwear it will not do the Gentleman any Preju⯑dice: For Paſſion is the worſt Perſuader in the World. For, as the Poet ſays,

Truth is too naked, of all Art bereav'd:
Since the World will—why—let them be deceiv'd.

Mrs. FURNIVAL.

[157]

I Cannot tell when Mrs. Furnival firſt com⯑menced Actreſs; but I know her Reputa⯑tion for a Stage-performer was ſo great, that a Perſon of high Birth and Station, who had ſeen her act ſeveral capital Parts at the Theatre in York, prevail'd on the Manager of Drury-lane to ſend for her in the Year 1737. Accordingly, I received a Commiſſion for that Purpoſe, which ſhe approved of. The firſt Part ſhe acted, at her Arrival in London, was that of the Scornful Lady, in a Comedy of Beaumont and Fletcher's that bears the Title. I own it was a Character of my own chooſing, and for no other Reaſon, but that the Play had ſlept ſince the Death of the inimitable Mrs. Oldfield. The Succeſs did not intirely anſwer the Mean⯑ing of my Intention, tho' ſhe acquitted herſelf ſo well, that there was a very good Actreſs in Proſpect. But the Parts in Tragedy were ſo taken up, that her Talent that Way was never once try'd in the Theatre-Royal in Drury-lane: Therefore, by the Advice of the ſame worthy Gentleman, that was the Cauſe of her leaving York for London, ſhe left London for Dublin, where her Merit was ſo conſpicuous, that her Loſs is much regretted. She is once more re⯑turned to England, I believe without any other Advice but her own; yet, I fear, ſhe will be remember'd here, till a better Alicia in Jane [158] Shore, Lady Macbeth, Hermione in the Di⯑ſtreſs'd Mother, or Zara in the Mourning Bride, with many other Parts, riſes up to out⯑do her.

But what, at firſt, gives infinite Delight,
When often ſeen, hangs heavy on the Sight.

DAVID GARRICK, Eſq

THIS complete Actor was born, in Staf⯑fordſhire, of an antient Family in that County; had a genteel Education, and was, by his Father, deſign'd for the Law. I doubt not, from his good Senſe and Affability, if he had continued in that honourable Society in Lincoln's-Inn, but he might have made a con⯑ſiderable Figure at the Bar, and, by his Elo⯑cution, walk'd in the foremoſt Rank of emi⯑nent Orators.

His Genius led him early to ſtudy Nature, and leave the crabbed Tracts of the Law. His facetious good Humour gained him Entrance behind the Scenes, two or three Years, in Drury-lane, before he commenced Actor; where his excellent Underſtanding could pro⯑fit by the Faults of others, mend them, and improve the Beauties.

In the Year 1740. he ſet out, in full Luſtre, at the Theatre in Goodman's-Fields, with the Part of Richard the Third; and, by the Force of Attraction, drew even the Court to the [159] fartheſt Suburbs of London. After making that remote Part of the Town as familiar to Courtiers and Quality, as Wapping to Sailors; he came, with a Blaze of Light, to Drury-lane; where he began with an Act of Charity worthy of his Humanity and Goodneſs, by aſſiſting the Widow of Mr. Harper with a Sum, that, by good Management, will make her Circumſtances eaſy the reſt of her Life. She was at Kilkenny, the Place of her Birth, two Summers ago, where I received this Ac⯑count from her own Mouth. The Part he perform'd was Chamont, in the Orphan.

When this Gentleman was in this Kingdom laſt, I was unfortunately ſeized by a ſtubborn Indiſpoſition, and his Good-nature prevailed upon the eminent Dr. Barry to give me his Aſſiſtance: But what need I repeat, to thoſe that are not blind, that the Sun ſhines in Sum⯑mer? I ſhall end with two Copies of Verſes that were printed, at his firſt Arrival, in the News-papers, at that Time.

On Mr. GARRICK.
[161]
Cur in Theatrum, Cato ſevere, veniſti?
An ideo tantum veneras, ut exires? MART.
IN Roman Days, once, Cato the ſevere,
With awful Brow, went to the Theatre:
But, O! inſtead of manly Fire, and Rage,
And all the true Pathetic of the Stage,
He ſaw, he heard, the Rant, the Droll, the Stare;
Saw Nature, and the Paſſions, murder'd there—
Saw, and retir'd—But, ſhou'd he now revive,
And ſee glad Nature in her Garrick live,
He'd laugh at Bayes, and weep with injur'd Lear,
Curſe Tyrant Richard, but applaud the Player!
By Joy, Rage, Pity, all the Paſſions mov'd,
Garrick wou'd well by Cato be approv'd:
The Wiſe, the Virtuous Cato, wou'd forbear
His rigid Cenſures, and in Raptures ſwear,
That by ſome Pow'r Divine the Stage was trod,
And, in the matchleſs Actor, own the God.

This great Actor is Author of Three Dra⯑matic Pieces, the Lying Valet, Miſs in her Teens, and Lethe; as alſo ſeveral well-wrote Prologues, Epilogues, Songs, and Poems of a peculiar Turn of Wit. I ſhall take Leave to inſert one Song, as a Specimen.

To SYLVIA.
[162]
IF Truth can fix thy wav'ring Heart,
Let Damon urge his Claim;
He feels the Paſſion void of Art,
The pure, and conſtant Flame.
Tho' ſighing Swains their Torments tell,
Their ſenſual Love contemn:
They only prize the beauteous Shell,
But ſlight the inward Gem.
Poſſeſſion cures the wounded Heart,
Deſtroys the tranſient Fire;
But when the Mind receives the Dart,
Enjoyment whets Deſire.
Your Charms each ſlaviſh Senſe controul,
A Tyrant's ſhort-liv'd Reign;
But milder Reaſon rules the Soul,
Nor Time can break the Chain.
By Age your Beauties will decay,
Your Mind improves with Years;
And, when the Bloſſoms fade away,
The rip'ning Fruit appears.
May Heav'n and Sylvia grant my Suit,
And bleſs each future Hour,
That Damon, who can taſte the Fruit,
May gather ev'ry Flow'r!

THOMAS GRIFFITH, Eſq

[163]

IS deſcended from an antient Family in Wales. His Parents came to ſettle in Dublin, where this Son was born in the Year 1680. He was put 'Prentice to a Mathema⯑tical Inſtrument-maker; but a lively-ſpirited Genius made him caſt his Thoughts towards the Theatre, when he ſaw a young Actreſs that had ſufficient Charms to engage his Heart. The Paſſion of Love is not to be controuled in Youth. He marry'd her before he had ſerv'd a Third Part of his Time, quitting his Ma⯑thematical Maſter, and bent his Thoughts in⯑tirely to the Drama. His Talent led him to Comedy, of the merry Caſt, in which he gave great Pleaſure to the Audience.

His Wit and facetious Humour gained him many Friends, of the beſt Sort, and ſuperior Rank. In the Year 1710. the late Lord South⯑well gave him a Poſt in the Revenue, which he enjoyed till Death, which fell out in January 24. 1743-4. in his grand Climacteric, two Days before the Night of his Benefit; which was performed for the Widow, his ſecond Wife, who was Daughter to the Rev. Mr. Foxcroft, of Portarlington in the Queen's County, a Gen⯑tlewoman of Merit and Virtue.

Mr. Griffith was not only a good Actor, but a pleaſing Poet, in what he attempted: His Perſon was well made, tho' low in Stature. I have ſeen a Bill of mock Alexander runs thus:

The Part of Alexander the Great to be per⯑form'd by little Griffith.
[164]

He was an excellent Companion, and told a Story with a peculiar Grace; and would often tell little Hiſtories of himſelf, even in Ridicule of himſelf. I ſhall mention one I had from his own Mouth.

After his commencing Actor, he contracted a Friendſhip with Mr. Wilks; which Chain re⯑mained unbroke till the Death of that excel⯑lent Comedian. Tho' Mr. Griffith was very young, Mr. Wilks took him with him to Lon⯑don, and had him enter'd for that Seaſon at a ſmall Salary. The Indian Emperor being or⯑dered on a ſudden to be play'd, the Part of Pizarro, a Spaniard, was wanting, which Mr. Griffith procur'd, with ſome Difficulty. Mr. Betterton being a little indiſpoſed, would not venture out to Rehearſal, for Fear of increaſing his Indiſpoſition, to the Diſappointment of the Audience, who had not ſeen our young Stripling rehearſe. But, when he came ready, at the Entrance, his Ears were pierc'd with a Voice not familiar to him: He caſt his Eyes upon the Stage, where he beheld the diminutive Pizarro, with a Truncheon as long as him⯑ſelf (his own Words). He ſteps up to Downs the Prompter, and cry'd, Zounds, Downs! what ſucking Scaramouch have you ſent on there? Sir, reply'd Downs, He's good enough for a Spaniard; the Part is ſmall. Betterton re⯑turn'd, [165] If he had made his Eye-brows his Whiſkers, and each Whiſker a Line, the Part would have been two Lines too much for ſuch a Monkey in Buſkins. Poor Griffith ſtood on the Stage, near the Door, and heard every Syllable of the ſhort Dialogue, and by his Fears, knew who was meant by it; but, happy for him, he had no more to ſpeak that Scene. When the firſt Act was over (by the Advice of Downs) he went to make his Excuſe, with—Indeed, Sir, I had not taken the Part, but there was only I alone out of the Play. I! I! (reply'd Betterton, with a Smile) Thou art but the Tittle of an I. Griffith ſeeing him in no ill Humour, told him, Indians ought to be the beſt Figures on the Stage, as Nature had made them. Very like, reply'd Betterton; but it would be a double Death to an Indian Cobler to be conquer'd by ſuch a Weazle of a Spaniard as thou art! And, after this Night, let me never ſee a Truncheon in thy Hand again, unleſs to ſtir the Fire. This Story, as I ſaid before, was of his own telling. However, he took his Advice, laid aſide the Buſkin, and ſtuck to the Sock, in which he made a Figure equal to moſt of his Cotemporaries.

Our Genius flutters with the Plumes of Youth,
But Obſervation wings to ſteddy Truth.

Mr. HENRY GIFFARD.

[166]

THIS Gentleman is deſcended from an antient Family, originally in Bucking⯑hamſhire. His Father had a numerous Iſſue, he being the laſt of Eight Sons. He was born in London, in 1699. In the Year 1716. he was made a Clerk to the South-Sea Company; in which Poſt he remained Three Years. But having a ſtrong Propenſity to the Stage, he firſt appeared in Public on the Theatre in Bath, in 1719. and, in two Years Probation, he made ſuch a Progreſs, that the Manager of Lincoln's-Inn-Fields Theatre invited him to join his Company, where he continued two Years more: From thence he went to try his Fortune in Ireland, where his Merit ſoon brought him into the Management.

During his Stay there, he marry'd the Daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Lydal, Perſons that made very good Figures in the Theatre. This Gentlewoman died in Child-bed very young, leaving behind her one Son, born in his Fa⯑ther's Houſe on the North-Strand, who is now an Actor in this Kingdom. Some Years after Mr. Giffard marry'd a ſecond Wife, who is now alive. She has an amiable Perſon, and is a well-eſteemed Actreſs, both in Tragedy and Comedy; born, if am not miſinformed by her Mother, the Widow Lydal, in the Year 1711.

[167] Mr. Giffard and Spouſe, if I miſtake not, came over to England 1730. where they ſup⯑ported a Company of Comedians, then under the Management of Mr. Odell, now Deputy-Licenſer of Plays under the Lord Chamberlain his Grace the Duke of Grafton. Mr. Odell, from not underſtanding the Management of a Company (as, indeed, how ſhould any one, that is not, in ſome ſort, brought up to that Know⯑lege?) ſoon left it to Mr. Giffard that did; who, in the Year 1733. cauſed to be built an intire, new, beautiful, convenient Theatre, by the ſame Architect with that of Covent-Garden; where Dramatic Pieces were performed with the utmoſt Elegance and Propriety. Some Years after he was obliged to quit that The⯑atre (I may ſay by Oppreſſion), and occupy'd the vacant Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields: But his Succeſs did not anſwer his Merit. From thence he tranſplanted himſelf into the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane.

Merit will ſometimes fail of due Regard,
And Virtue's Self muſt be its own Reward.

Mr. BENJAMIN HUSBAND,

WAS born in Pembrokeſhire, January 1672. His Anceſtors were an antient and reputable Family, long ſeated in that County. He fell in Love with the Tragic Muſe very young, but dangled after the Dra⯑ma [168] full two Years, ſighing, at great Expence, before he was ſuffered to declare his Paſſion publicly. Yet, certainly he poſſeſſed moſt of the Requiſites that compound a good Actor, to aſſure Succeſs. But the Managers of thoſe Theatrical Days were very cautious in their Proceedings; no Perſons were fit for their Stages, without a viſible Appearance, at leaſt, of not diſpleaſing. And yet it was with ſome Difficulty he gained Permiſſion to perſonate Sir Walter Ralegh in the Earl of Eſſex; but he came off ſo well, that, the following Pay-Day, he received a Week's Salary, the uſual Stipend of young Actors (Ten Shillings a Week); but, unluckily, the Death of good Queen Mary put a Stop to their Acting for near Six Months. However, when Permiſ⯑ſion was given to open the Theatres again, Mr. Huſband ſoon gained better Parts, and a larger Salary.

In the Year 1696. Mr. Dogget d, being then in Ireland, recommended Mr. Huſband to [169] Mr. Aſhbury, as a very promiſing young Actor, and fit for his Purpoſe. He ſet out from Lon⯑don with Mr. Trefuſis e, and embarked for [170] Ireland; and was at Sea in that violent Storm when Brigadier Fitzgerald was caſt away in the Packet-Boat, near Hoath, where every Sou⯑periſhed but the Maſter of the Veſſel. How⯑ever, after much Difficulty, and great Danger he landed ſafe in Dublin. Mr. Huſband con⯑tinued on the Stage with great Reputation as an Actor, and a Gentleman of exact Conduct An Example truly worthy imitating.

He afterwards paſſed and repaſſed from England to Ireland ſeveral Times, till, in the Year 1713. he was ſettled in this Kingdom for (I believe) the remaining Part of his Days fix'd in the Eſteem of all that know him.

[171]
The Lees of Life with Chearfulneſs he wears,
And from an upright Mind no Death he fears.

Mr. CHARLES HULET.

THIS Perſon performed one Seaſon on the Dublin Stage. He was born in the Year 1701. and was by his Father put 'Pren⯑tice to a Bookſeller. By reading of Plays in his Maſter's Shop, he us'd to repeat Speeches in the Kitchen, in the Evening, to the De⯑ſtruction of many a Chair, which he ſubſti⯑tuted in the Room of real Perſons in his Drama. One Night, as he was repeating the Part of Alexander, with his wooden Repre⯑ſentative of Clytus (an old Elbow-Chair), and coming to the Speech where the old General is to be kill'd, this young mock Alexander ſnatch'd a Poker inſtead of a Javelin, and threw it with ſuch Strength againſt poor Cly⯑tus, that the Chair was kill'd upon the Spot, and lay mangled on the Floor. The Death of Clytus made a monſtrous Noiſe, which diſturbed the Maſter in the Parlour, who called out to know the Reaſon; and was an⯑ſwered by the Cook below, Nothing, Sir, but that Alexander has kill'd Clytus.

His Maſter, Mr. Edmund Curll f(a Per⯑ſon [172] well noted in London from Mr. Pope' commencing Phyſician), finding his Inclina⯑tion ſo ſtrong for the Stage, agreed to let him try his Fortune there. He had a moſt extra⯑ordinary melodious Voice, ſtrong, and clear and in the Part of Macheath, in the Beggar' Opera, he was allow'd to excel the Original Then he was an excellent Mimic, if Excel⯑lency may be join'd to Mimicry. He took a little too much Pride in the Firmneſs of his Voice; for he had an odd Cuſtom of ſtealing unperceiv'd upon a Perſon, and, with a Hem! in his Ear, deafen him for ſome time, with [173] the Strength and Loudneſs of his Voice. Yet this cuſtomary Folly (for Folly it may be juſtly call'd) prov'd his Fate; for the laſt Hem! he gave broke a Blood-Veſſel, which was the Cauſe of his Death in Twenty-four Hours after. He was a great Benefactor to the Malt-Tax, which, in my Opinion, was the Cauſe of that Mountain of Fleſh he was loaded with.

At the Time of his Death, he was under Mr. Henry Giffard, at the Theatre in Good⯑man's-Fields. He was bury'd at the Charge of that Gentleman, in St. Mary's Church, White-chapel, in the 35th Year of his Age. We ſhall end with Mr. Hulet in Mr. Giffard's own Words.

Mr. Charles Hulet was endowed with great Abilities for a Player; but laboured under the Diſadvantage of a Perſon rather too corpulent for the Hero or the Lover; but his Port well became Henry the Eighth, Falſtaff, &c. and many other Characters, both Tragedy and Comedy, in which he would have been equally excellent, had his Application and Figure been proportionable to his Qua⯑lifications; which had he duly cultivated, he would have become a very conſiderable Performer.

What Machines are we poor Mortals! that a Perſon ſhould be kill'd with a Hem!

As in a Watch, if the leaſt Engine flies,
The Work is ſtopp'd, and the whole Movement dies.

Mr. BENJAMIN JOHNSON,

[174]

COmmonly called Ben Johnſon, was bre [...] a Painter, where his Employment led him to paint, under his Maſter, the Scenes for the Stage; but he took more Pleaſure in hear⯑ing the Actors rehearſe, than in his Pencil or Colours; and, as he us'd to ſay in his merry Mood, left the Saint's g Occupation to take that of a Sinner.

He arrived to as great a Perfection in Act⯑ing, as his great Nameſake did in Poetry. He ſeemed to be proud to wear that eminent Poet's double Name, being more particular⯑ly great in all that Author's Plays that were uſually performed, viz. Waſp in the Play of Bartholomew-Fair, Corbaccio in the Fox, Mo⯑roſe in the Silent Woman, and Ananias in the Alchymiſt.

He was but once in this Kingdom, about fifty Years ago, in the Summer Seaſon. I have heard him often give moſt extravagant Praiſes to one Baker, a Maſter-Paver in Dub⯑lin, for excelling in Sir John Falſtaff, the Spaniſh Fryar, Sir Epicure Mammon in the Alchymiſt, and many other Parts. He would be ſtudying in the Streets, while he would be overlooking his Men at their Work. One [175] Day two of his Men, that were newly come under their Maſter, and were Strangers to his Manner, obſerving his Countenance, Mo⯑tions, Geſtures, and talking to himſelf, ima⯑gined their Maſter was mad. Baker, ſeeing his Men neglect their Work to gaze at him, bid them, in a haſty Manner, mind their Buſi⯑neſs! The Country-Fellows (for they but lately came from Cheſter) went to work again, but ſtill with an Eye upon their Maſter. The Part was Sir John Falſtaff that Baker was re⯑hearſing; and, when he came to the Fifth Act, where the humourous Knight is ſuppoſed to ſee Sir Walter Blunt lie dead upon the Stage—He gives a Look on one of his new Pavers, and muttered loud enough to be heard, with Eyes fix'd upon him,—Who have we here?—Sir Walter Blunt!—There's Honour for you. The Fellow, that was ſtooping, roſe on the Inſtant, clapping hold of his Maſter—Wauns! Iſe blunt enough to take care of you, Iſe warrant you! So, with the Help of his Companion, they bound Mr. Baker's Hands and Feet, aſſiſted by other People, no wiſer than themſelves; and, notwithſtanding their Maſter's Noiſe and Struggle, they carried him home in that Con⯑dition, with a great Mob at their Heels. Mr. Johnſon informed me, when he returned to England, he gave Mr. Betterton the Manner of Baker's playing Falſtaff; which that great Actor not only approv'd of, but imitated; and allowed the Manner was better than his [176] own. Mr. Huſband gave me much the ſame Account of this Mr. Baker.

Mr. Johnſon played to the laſt Year of his Life, with the ſame ſtandard Reputation; and died in Auguſt 1742. in the 77th Year of his Age.

He fell like Autumn Fruit, that mellow'd long,
Even wonder'd at, becauſe he dropt no ſooner.
OEDIPUS.

Miſs J. JONES.

THE Father of this young Gentlewoman was born in Wales, a Branch of an an⯑tient and reputable Family in that Country; but an unforeſeen Misfortune falling upon him, he made the Stage his Refuge, and go⯑verned a Country Company many Years, with Judgment, Honeſty, and Reputation. Miſs Jones, more by the Will of her Father than her own Inclinations, was thruſt on the Stage a mere Infant, and now makes a very good Figure there: But her Virtue, and ſober diſ⯑creet Behaviour, may be a Pattern for Imita⯑tion; therefore I ſhall ſay no more, but con⯑clude, that ſhe deſerves a better Fate.

Our Guardian Angel is fair Innocence,
And virtuous Actions are our beſt Defence.

Mr. THEOPHILUS KEEN.

[177]

I Mention this Gentleman, as receiving In⯑ſtructions from the late Joſeph Aſhbury, Eſq Mr. Keen was an excellent Scholar, and a very good Actor: But, having ſome Share in the Government of the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, under Mr. Rich, either for the Want of Performers, or, perhaps, overlooking his Ta⯑lents (a Fault ſometimes very good Actors, of both Sexes, are guilty of), he ſtood for Parts ſomething out of his Road, as Oroonoko, Earl of Eſſex, Edgar in King Lear; when, in the Part of Gloſter, in the ſame Play, and others of that Caſt, no Actor of his Time could excel him. Altho' a very good Figure and Voice, his Per⯑ſon wanted Elegance for the ſoft Characters.

It was reported, the ill Succeſs of the Thea⯑tre, when he was Sharer in Profit and Loſs, broke his Heart. He died in the Year 1719 and was bury'd in the Body of the Church of St. Clement-Danes, by a voluntary Subſcrip⯑tion from both Houſes. It was what we term in England a Walking Funeral; and there were upwards of Two hundred Perſons in deep Mourning. His Life was publiſhed by Mr. Savage, illegitimate Son to the Earl of Rivers. Several Wou'd-be Wits wrote Copies of Verſes upon his Death: One I remember ending with this Line:

And Death was found too Sharp for Keen.

Mr. LAURENCE KENNEDY.

[178]

THIS Gentleman is a Native of Ireland, born in Dublin. His good Figure, agree⯑able Voice, and genteel eaſy Carriage, render him a pleaſing Actor; and we may expect from ſuch Qualifications, that Time may bring him to great Perfection. All Arts are learned by Time, Obſervation, and Induſtry; and, when Choice guides Youth in any Occupation, Na⯑ture ſeems to lead the Way.

But many blunder on in various Ways;
Some ill ſucceed, while others merit Praiſe.

Mr. JOHN LEIGH,

I Think, was born in Ireland. He com⯑menced Actor, however, on the Iriſh Thea⯑tre. He was a Perſon of ſome Education, with a particular amiable Form, and genteel Addreſs, inſomuch that he gained the Appel⯑lative of Handſome Leigh. A good Figure was the chief Advantage in the Parts he per⯑form'd. He was call'd from this Kingdom, to fill up the Troop of Comedians rais'd to gariſon the New Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, in the Year 1714. at its firſt Open⯑ing; where he ſet forth the Firſt Night in Captain Plume, in the Recruiting Officer; which occaſioned the following Lines to be wrote on the Back of one of their Bills:

[179]
'Tis right to raiſe Recruits; for, faith, they're wanted;
For not one acting Soldier's here, 'tis granted.

Mr. Leigh, I believe, might have been in the good Graces of the Fair-Sex, if his Taſte had led him that Way. He was addicted to Poetry, and produced a Comedy call'd Kenſing⯑ton-Gardens, acted at the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields in the Year 1720. which walk'd conſumptively ſix Nights, and then expir'd. He alſo trimm'd up a Farce call'd, Hob's Wed⯑ding, taken from a Comedy call'd, The Coun⯑try Wake, written by that perfect Comedian Mr. Thomas Dogget. He has wrote ſeveral humourous Songs. Here follows a Sample, which as it is a Theatrical Anecdote, will re⯑quire a little Illuſtration by way of Notes.

To the Tune of, Thomas I cannot.
MY ſcandalous Neighbours of Portugal-ſtreet *,
Come liſten awhile to my Ditty;
I'll ſing you a Song, tho' my Voice be not ſweet,
And that you will ſay is a Pity:
As merry a Sonnet as Times can afford,
Of Egleton a, Walker b, Jack Hall c, and my Lord d;
If you doubt of the Truth, to confirm ev'ry Word,
[180] I'll call for a Witneſs—Will Thomas! Will Thomas e!
I'll call for a Witneſs—Will Thomas!
II.
Firſt, Egleton coax'd the Fool over the Way f
With Sentences ſweeter than Honey;
A Toad in a Hole gwas their Dinner that Day,
And my Noodle he lent them his Money.
What tho' I have got by him many a Crown?
What I ne'er can forgive him is, that he came down
Five Guineas the Night ere he went out of Town.
Is this true, or no?—O yes! ſays Will Thomas,
O yes, &c.
[181]III.
Tom Walker, his Creditors meaning to chouſe,
Like an honeſt good-natur'd young Fellow,
Reſolv'd all the Summer to ſtay in the Houſe,
And rehearſe by himſelf Maſſianello h.
As ſoon as he heard of the Baron's Succeſs i,
He ſtript off his Night-gown, and put on his Dreſs,
And cry'd, D—mn my B—d! I will ſtrike for no leſs;
So he call'd o'er the Hatch kfor Will Thomas! Will Thomas!
So he call'd, &c.
IV.
Go tell my young Lord, ſays this modeſt young Man,
I beg he'd invite me to Dinner;
I'll be as diverting as ever I can,
I will by the Faith of a Sinner!
[182] I mimic all Actors, the worſt and the beſt,
I'll ſing him a Song, I'll crack him a Jeſt,
I'll make him Act better than Henley the Prieſt l
I'll tell him ſo, Sir, ſays Will Thomas, Will Thomas,
I'll tell him ſo, &c.
V.
Jack Hall, who was then juſt awaken'd from Sleep,
Said (turning about to Grace Moffet m),
'Twou'd vex any Dog to ſee Pudding thus creep,
And not have a Share of the Profit:
If you have not, ſays Grace, you're not Mr. Hall!
And if I have not, it ſhall coſt me a Fall;
For half a Loaf's better than no Bread at all;
And ſo I'll call out for Will Thomas, Will Thomas,
And ſo, &c.
VI.
Go tell my young Lord, I can teach him to Dance,
Altho' I'm no very great Talker;
I'll ſhew him good Manners juſt landed from France,
That's more than he'll learn from Tom Walker!
I Sing, and I Act, I Dance, and I Fence;
I am a rare Judge of—good Eating—and Senſe—
[183] And then—as for Engliſh—I underſtand French.
I'll tell him ſo, Sir, ſays Will Thomas, Will Thomas,
I'll tell him ſo, &c.
VII.
The Peer was juſt going his Purſe-ſtrings to draw,
In order to lend them his Money—
As ſoon as his forward Good-nature I ſaw n,
I cry'd out, My Lord! fie upon you!
To us you're as hard as a Turk, or a Jew;
If you part with your Money, pay where it is due;
Poor Betty's owith Child, and it may be by you.
Here's Fun for us all! cry'd Will Thomas, Will Thomas,
Here's Fun, &c.
VIII.
When his Lordſhip heard this, away down he ran,
And drove away ſtrait to the Devil p;
Will Thomas ſneak'd over to the Green-man q;
Thus our Cuſtomers uſe us uncivil r.
[184] Poor Betty's Misfortune is pity'd by all,
Who expects ev'ry Moment in Pieces to fall,
Tho' ſhe ſwears 'tis my Lord's, 'twas got by Jack Hall,
Or elſe by poor ſneaking Will Thomas, Will Thomas,
Or elſe, &c.
*
Portugal-ſtreet, where the Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields is built.
a
Mr. Egleton, commonly call'd Baron Egleton, for taking that Title upon him in France, where he ſquan⯑dered away a ſmall Patrimony. His Perſon was per⯑fectly genteel, and a very pleaſing Actor; but through a wild Road of Life, he finiſh'd his Journey in the 29th Year of his Age.
b
b Mr. Walker (the original Macheath). Vide the Ac⯑count of his Life.
c
Mr. John Hall, a Sharer in old Smock alley Thea⯑tre above thirty Years ago. He went from hence with Mr. Leigh to the New Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields. He was ſomething too corpulent, and a Thickneſs of Speech that might be mimic'd with Eaſe, which adds ſome Humour to this Ballad. He underſtood Muſic, and was once a Dancing-Maſter, and the original Lockit in the Beggar's Opera.
d
My Lord, a young Nobleman weak in Intellects (Title and Eſtates do not always inherit Wiſdom)
e
A Waiter at a Coffee-houſe in Portugal-ſtreet, over⯑againſt the Stage-Door; a Perſon in Underſtanding pretty near upon a Par with my Lord.
f
The young Lord.,
g
A Cant Word for any bak'd Meat with a Pudding.
h
Maſſianello, a Play, or rather two Plays, on the Rebellion of Naples, by Thomas Anello, a Fiſherman of that City, who was near ſubverting the Government, having the whole Power and Command in his Hands for ſeveral Days; but plunging himſelf into Wine inſtead of his Element of Water, he at laſt ended his Life and mock Reign in a Ditch. Mr. Walker took ſome Pains that Summer to contract the two Plays into one, which was perform'd the following Winter, with ſome Succeſs. The two Plays were originally written by Mr. Thomas Durfey.
i
Mr. Egleton receiv'd the five Guineas from the Lord.
k
The Hatch of the Stage-door: The Bounds of thoſe Theatrical Princes, that might receive four Pounds a Week, and by their Induſtry make Shift to ſpend ſix. A great Virtue in ſome Theatrical Gentry.
l
Orator Henley, who was taught to ſpeak by Mr. Walker.
m
Grace Moffet, Daughter to Mr. Hall s Second Wife, that kept the Bell and Dragon in Portugal-ſtreet.
n
As ſoon, &c. This Ballad was to be ſuppoſed to be made by the Woman that kept the Coffee-houſe.
o
Betty, Maid to the Coffee-woman, that could ſerve the Peer, and the Porter.
p
The Devil Tavern, Temple-Bar.
q
A Brandy ſhop over the Way
r
Thus our Cuſtomers, &c. Reflections of the Coffee-woman.

The Author died in 1726. the 37th Year of his Age.

A Time that ſhould to true Perfection tend;
But many promiſe well, that never mend.

Mr. LEWIS LAYFIELD,

WAS born in England, has been in many Employments both by Sea and Land, and was formerly very active and ſtrong, able to go through Fatigues. As I do not know the Offices he bore in the Service, I muſt be ſilent on that Head. I remember him in Drury-lane, when I was in my Youth, a nim⯑ble active Scaramouch, before he was loaden with that Burden of Fleſh he now carries about him. At that Time he was ſuch a Perſon as his eldeſt Son, Mr. Robert Layfield, appears at preſent, who is a very good Player in ſeveral Caſt of Parts, particularly Serjeant Kite, &c.

[185] Mr. Layfield has been a main Pillar, Time paſt, in ſupporting the Dublin Theatre, and therefore ought to be reſpected in his Decline; but he is happily engaged for Life, and of Con⯑ſequence (if Articles are binding) will receive his Salary to the Day of his Death. There are ſeveral Parts he might ſtill perform with Satisfaction, as Hob, Jobſon, and many others; for the Audience (in well-eſteemed Actors) will 'bate them ſomething of their Years for the Service they have done. I do not know whe⯑ther that Circumſtance will have any Weight with the Managers here, tho' it is an old-fa⯑ſhion'd Cuſtom in England; but different Nations, different Cuſtoms.

'Tis ſaid the Natives of the Cape Good-Hope s,
When Age is failing, end it with a Rope.

Mr. WILLIAM MILWARD.

THIS Gentleman was born at Lichfield in Staffordſhire the 29th of September in the Year 1702. His Great Grandfather Sir Thomas Milward was Chief Juſtice of Weſt-Cheſter, and raiſed a Troop of Horſe in De⯑fence [186] of that unhappy Monarch King Charles the Firſt, and was then a County Palatine, which occaſioned the Rump Parliament in the Year 1659. to vote their Charter void; and I do not find it ever reſtor'd. The Family were originally from Derbyſhire. The Father of our Actor, a few Years after the Birth of his Son, removed to Uttoxeter (commonly called Tociter) in the County of Stafford, diſtant from London 126 meaſured Miles, formerly a Colony of the Romans.

He had his Education in a School of that Town, accounted one of the beſt in that Part of the Country. At fifteen his Father brought him to London, where he was put Apprentice to an eminent Apothecary in Norfolk-ſtreet in the Strand; but he has often declared, there were ſo many Dangers in the Employment, that he could never like it. The following Acci⯑dent made him determine to leave it.

‘He was ordered by his Maſter to carry his Preſcriptions to a Gentleman and Lady ill of different Maladies at the ſame time; the Labels were wrong directed, but he did not diſcover this Miſtake till the next Day, when he carried other Medicines to the ſame Perſons, and by his Judgment in the O⯑peration ſoon found out the Miſtake. He was greatly terrified, but for fear of more, he let fall the Phial he had in his Hand, as by Accident, ran back to his Maſter, and told him what had been done. The Maſ⯑ter [187] ordered more proper Doſes, the Pati⯑ents recovered, and all was well’

Mr. Milward's firſt Eſſay in Acting was among young Gentlemen, privately, for their own Diverſion. In a ſmall time after he mixt with a Country Company of Comedians, where his Merit ſhone ſo bright, that it open'd the Eyes of the Manager in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, with whom he roſe in that Theatre, and Co⯑vent-Garden, to be placed in the foremoſt Rank of Perfection. He died in the 40th Year of his Age, in the very Meridian of an Actor, then belonging to the Theatre in Drury-lane.

Mr. Milward ſhall make his Exit from this worldly Stage, with an Epilogue ſpoke for the Benefit of his Widow, which will better ſpeak his Excellencies.

WHEN Roſcius died, each gen'rous Roman wept,
While Cicero's deathleſs Page his Plaudit kept;
Such was the Harveſt in that Golden Age,
Who toil'd to till the Vineyard of the Stage:
The Romans wept! more gen'rous Britons, ye
Dry up the Tears of Milward's Family:
Your bounteous Cares beyond the Grave extend!
Lo! what a Scene, dead Merit to befriend;
For Merit ſure he ſhar'd in ev'ry Part,
Merit moſt rare—Integrity of Heart.
Whate'er of Friendly, Gen'rous, Good, he play'd,
In Scenes of real Life he ſtill diſplay'd:
Young Hamlet's Sable when he choſe to wear,
Young Hamlet's filial Piety was there:
[188] When the fond Lover t Phocyas was his Part,
Each tender Line ſprang glowing from his Heart;
Or when Macduff's dire Anguiſh was his Theme,
The Huſband and the Father bled in him.
Well might he pleaſe, when with each virtuous Thought
The Poet penn'd, the Player's Breaſt was fraught.
Such Milward was, as ſuch his early Grave
Calls down the Pity of the Fair and Brave;
Cut off juſt at the Noon-tide of his Days,
Juſt when he hop'd to have deſerv'd your Praiſe:
The Player, ſteel'd to counterfeit the Tear,
Diſtills an undiſſembled Eye-drop here;
Whilſt by this ſplendid Circle fir'd, his Breaſt
With Emulation burns, and claims his beſt,
That his own Manes may like Milward's reſt.

Mr. CHARLES MACKLIN,

WAS born in the Kingdom of Ireland, but left that Country very young. He caſt his Thoughts towards the Stage in England in his early Years. The Science of Acting is not to be learn'd without great Labour and Study; and, not copying any Performer that went before him, he has at length ſhone out a finiſh'd Original. I never knew him under⯑take any Part, but, as in Painting, I found ſome Strokes of Nature that gave freſh Touches to the Picture he was drawing.

[189] He roſe gradually in the Theatrical Corps, like the late Northern Star of Ruſſia, till he came to be chief Leader; he regularly gained the Topmaſt Step, and now is ſeated in the Throne of Perfection, diſpenſing Laws to that Part of the Province where the SOCK is worn, where he reigns ſole Monarch, and de⯑ſervedly ſo, ſince with long laborious Pains he has found out the true Rule of Reigning. Shy⯑lock the Jew, in the Merchant of Venice, is ſo immitably counterfeited, that we cannot ſay more than what a Gentleman ſaid extempore on ſeeing him perform the Part:

This is the Jew
That Shakeſpear drew.

This excellent Comedian is Author of a Play call'd Henry the VIIth, or the Popiſh Impoſtor, acted at the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, the Story of Perkin Warbeck. The Piece (in my Judgment) is well-plann'd, the Diction is not conſidered critically; but no wonder, ſince he was put upon the Subject, and had but ſix Weeks from the firſt Line in Writing to the firſt Night in Acting. The following One-Act Pieces have been performed with great Succeſs, but not printed.

A Will, or no Will; or, a new Caſe for the Lawyers.

A Critic on the Suſpicious Huſband; or, the Plague of Envy.

[190] The Fortune-Hunters; or, the Widow Be⯑witch'd.

I ſhall conclude with two Lines, wrote b7 a Gentleman in this Kingdom.

This Jew, this Colonel, Lopez, Ben, has ſhown,
He makes each various Character his own.

Mrs. MACKLIN,

MAY (by her Judgment and Execution in the Parts ſhe undertakes) be equally ranked with the firſt Claſs of Actreſſes, and, in ſome Articles, lead the Way. She never ſets up for a Heroine, or attempts to appear in an improper Light; ſhe knows the Power of her own Talents, and always ſhines with un⯑borrow'd Light, without the Danger of being eclipſed. Her Propriety in Dreſs, for the va⯑rious Characters ſhe performs, is another Ex⯑cellence that moſt of her Cotemporaries either paſs over with very little Regard, or not enough.

In my Theatrical Courſe of above thirty Years, I have not ſeen her Equal in many Parts, viz. the Widow Black-Acre in Wycherly's Plain-Dealer, Mrs. Day in the Committee, Widow Lackit in Southern's Oroonoko, Lady Pliant in Congreve's Double-Dealer, Doris in Aeſop by Sir John Vanbrugh, Mrs. Amelet in the [191] Confederacy by the ſame Author, Lady Wiſh⯑fort in the Way of the World, and a Number of other Characters, that are wrote in the true Spirit of Comedy. But a Veſſel need not fail of arriving at the deſired Port with the Care of ſo good a Pilot.

We may find by theſe two Examples, that Ireland has produced as complete Comedians as her Siſter England: But I ſhall give a few Lines, the Sentiments of a young Gentleman in this City.

To Mrs. MACKLIN.
WHILE Macklin charms the liſt'ning Throng,
A nobler Subject warms my Song:
Of Nature's ſacred Name I'd ſing,
From whom her various Beauties ſpring;
The ſwelling Senſe!—the genial Fire!
The nameleſs Graces we admire!
To her—ſhe frankly did impart
A Clue—to trace the mazy Heart:
She gave her Wit—with graceful Eaſe,
And ev'ry Attribute to pleaſe;
But know—thou finiſh'd Nymph—to you
Nor Wonder—nor Applauſe—is due
For Charms—which Nature only drew.

Mr. JOHN MORRIS,

[192]

WAS born in this Kingdom. I underſtand his firſt Entrance on the Stage was under the Conduct of Mrs. Violante: With her he travelled to England, and by various Changes has been in moſt of the Theatres in London as well as Dublin. There are ſeveral old Mens Parts that he maſterly executes. He ſings paſſingly, is eſteemed a good Teague, and an excellent Pierrot. He has a Brother of the ſame Calling.

Dancing is certainly one of the Appendages to Education that few polite People would be without; yet, if it mends the Manners, it does not always mend the Mind; but, as Othello ſays,

—'Tis not to make me jealous,
To ſay my Wife is fair, feeds well, loves Com⯑pany,
Is free of Speech, ſings, plays, and dances well;
Where Virtue is, theſe are moſt virtuous.

Mr. CHARLES MORGAN,

WAS born in London in the Year 1717. His Father and Mother both belonging to the Stage at his Birth, the Son play'd the Childrens Parts as ſoon as he could ſpeak [193] plain. He came into this Kingdom in the Year 1737. with his Parents, where he made a great Progreſs in what is called low Comedy, and gave great Hopes of Perfection, if a lin⯑gering Conſumptioh had not taken him off in the Flower of his Age. I fear he took a little too much Freedom with his Conſtitution, and by Perſeverance made ſhift to get the better of it. He died in May 1745. in the 28th Year of his Age. The laſt Part he performed was Beau Clincher in the Conſtant Couple, being the firſt Time of Mr. Sherridan's appearing in the Character of Sir Harry Wildair, where Mr. Morgan, notwithſtanding his ill Habit of Body, like a Taper in its laſt Blaze, gave a brighter Flame than all that ſhone before. This was November, tho' he lingered on till the May following.

Thus manly Health is often overcome,
When its worſt Woe is to be found at Home.

Mr. MOZEEN.

I Think I know enough of him to imagine he is a very improving Actor: He has many Requiſites that may make out what I aſſert for him, a good Perſon join'd to a genteel Education, Judgment, Voice, and Underſtanding. His Succeſs already (ſince he has had but three Years Experience) ſhews us a larger Proſpect of Advantage.

[194] He was born in England (tho' of French Extraction) and (if it is any Honour to him had the much-talk'd-of Dr. Henry Sachevere for a Sponſor.

Mrs. Mozeen (formerly Miſs Edwards) knew a Child. She ſprung up under the Car [...] of that eminent Actreſs Mrs. Clive. I know Mrs. Mozeen is an Adept in Muſic, has a charming Manner and Voice: If her innate Modeſty keeps her back as an Actreſs, Time may get the better of her Timidity. Mo⯑deſty may aſſume a proper Spirit, when it is aſſured of being juſtly right in what is un⯑dertaken; for Virtue has ever Courage, and is its own Guardian.

Virtue could ſee to do what Virtue would
By her own radiant Light, tho' Sun and Moon
Were in the flat Sea ſunk. Milton.

Mr. WILLIAM MYNITT.

THIS Gentleman was born of a good Fa⯑mily, at Weobly in Herefordſhire, in the Year 1710. where he received a good Schoo Education: He was ſent to London very young to be put into Buſineſs, but his Friends or ra⯑ther Relations (who often prove our greateſ [...] Enemies) neglecting his Fortune, he turn'd hi Thoughts to the Drama. However he had no the Vanity of moſt of the Theatrical young Heroes, who jump at once into your Othello [195] Oroonoko, Hamlet, or Captain Plume; but wiſe⯑ly weighing his own Talents, ſtep'd into the Part of Polonius in Hamlet, where he gained ſuch Applauſe, that he reſolv'd to put on the Sock, with which he walked an eaſy Pace in the right Road to Perfection.

His firſt Trial of Skill was at the Theatre in the Hay-market (commonly called the French Houſe), where he gave ſuch Strokes of Judg⯑ment that alarmed his beſt Antagoniſts. From his beginning Encouragement he was ſolicited to add a promiſing Member to the Company of Bath, where there is a regular Theatre, and an Audience as difficult to be pleas'd as that in London, being generally Perſons of the higheſt Rank that frequent thoſe Diverſions in the Ca⯑pital. He had the good Fortune to give Sa⯑tisfaction there, inſomuch that ſeveral Perſons of Diſtinction and Taſte promiſed to recom⯑mend him to one of the eſtabliſh'd Theatres in London: But a Company that Seaſon ſet⯑ting out for Ireland, he was reſolv'd to ac⯑company them, and cultivate his Genius in this Kingdom. His Knowlege in Muſic is ſome Addition to his Merit, and in his Walk of Acting he may keep Pace with the beſt on both Sides the Water.

I never ſaw Mrs. Mynitt perform any Part; but as ſhe has an amiable Perſon, and excellent Voice, I have taken it upon Truſt, that ſhe is an agreeable Actreſs both in Tragedy and Comedy. But the Bulk of the Letters in the Bills are the diſtinguiſhed Characteriſtics of [196] Merit. It puts me in Memory of a Manda⯑rin I ſaw at Canton in China, who was lifted on a Throne of State to public View, while a Dozen of his Slaves that bore him in Triumph through the Streets, were covered with a Curtain, and no more of their Perſons ſeen but the regular Steps of their Feet.

In ev'ry Region 'tis a Maxim try'd,
Cuſtom in ſpight of Reaſon will preſide.

Mr. HENRY NORRIS (alias JUBILEE DICKY).

THIS natural Comedian was born in Sa⯑liſbury Court in 1665. near the Spot where the Theatre was afterwards erected that went by the Name of Dorſet-Garden Theatre, it being in Queen Elizabeth's Days the Gar⯑dens of the Palace belonging to the Earl of Dorſet. He play'd on the Iriſh Stage in 1695 Tho' a diminutive Figure, there were many Parts that he excelled in, viz. Barnaby Brittle in the Wanton Wife, &c. I remember when Mr. Norris was in his Decline, Mr. Cibber ſe [...] made ſome Alterations in the Play, and per⯑form'd the Part himſelf; Mrs. Oldfield tha of Mrs. Brittle. But ſhe complain'd ſhe couk not perform it with that Spirit with him, as ſhe did with little Norris (as ſhe call'd him). When aſked her the Reaſon, ſhe reply'd, Cuckold [...] did not ſit ſo eaſy on Cibber's Figure as it di [...] [197] upon that of Norris's, who ſeem'd form'd by Nature to be one.

The Mother of this little great Comedian was one of the firſt Women that came on the Stage as an Actreſs; for ſome Time after the Reſto⯑ration of King Charles the Second young ſmooth-fac'd Men perform'd the Womens Parts. That humourous Monarch, coming be⯑fore his uſual Time to Shakeſpear's Hamlet, ſent the facetious Earl of Rocheſter to know the Reaſon of their Delay; who brought Word back, That the Queen was not quite ſhav'd. Ods Fiſh (his uſual Expreſſion), I beg her Majeſty's Pardon! we'll wait till her Barber has done with her.

Mr. Norris married Mrs. Knapton, the Siſter of the late Mr. Wilks's firſt Wife, by whom he had ſeveral Children. The Females are ſince dead, and reſembled the Mother in Sta⯑ture, ſhe being a very perſonable Woman; but the Sons copied the Father, our Jubilee Dicky, which Nickname came for his inimi⯑table humourous Performance of a Part ſo called in The Conſtant Couple; or, A Trip to the Jubilee.

He ſpoke Tragedy exceedingly knowing in the different Paſſions, tho' he never perform'd any Part of the ſerious Caſt: for, notwith⯑ſtanding his Judgment, on the London Theatres his Figure muſt have made the Sentiments ri⯑diculous. After the Death of that celebrated Author Mr. Addiſon, the merry Mr. Penketh⯑man, [198] at his Theatre at Richmond d, play'd the Tragedy of Cato, or, rather, defil'd thoſe no⯑ble Sentiments of Liberty, out of ſuch merry Mouths. Norris was ridiculouſly dreſſed for Cato, Penkethman Juba, low Comedians for the other Characters, and the two Ladies ſup⯑plied by Men of the ſame Caſt: Yet a blind Man might have borne with Norris in the Ro⯑man Patriot, for he ſpoke it with all the So⯑lemnity of a ſuffering Hero; while Penketh⯑man, and the reſt of the motley Tribe, made it as ridiculous by Humour and Action: And yet ſome of the firſt Rank in the Kingdom ſeemed highly diverted, whilſt others invoked the Manes of the dead Roman and Briton to riſe, and avenge their own Cauſe. I remember the next Morning the following four Lines were paſted on the Door of the Playhouſe:

While Greatneſs hears ſuch Language ſpoke,
Where godlike Freedom's made a Joke;
Let ſuch mean Souls be never free
To taſte the Sweets of Liberty.

An illuſtrious Nobleman, who had a Seat near Richmond, ſeeing ſeveral People reading the [199] Lines as he was riding up the Hill, ſtop'd, and peruſed them; and ſaid, in his uſual grave Manner,—I wiſh the Poetry had been better.

Mr. Norris died in the 69th Year of his Age. His eldeſt Son may be remember'd here as an Actor, ſome few Years ago, on old Smock⯑alley Stage; but neither he, nor his Brother (who has likewiſe troubled ſeveral Country Stages in England), reſembled the Father in any Thing but Stature.

Great Nature differs in the human Race;
Some worthleſs Stems the Parent-roots diſgrace.

Mrs. ANNE OLDFIELD.

THE Reaſon why I have thruſt this cele⯑brated Actreſs into my Account, may be learn'd by the following Epiſtle.

Dublin, May the 27th.
SIR,

WE find, by the News-papers, you in⯑tend to give us the Hiſtory of the Stage. It is deſir'd by ſeveral, that you would be pleaſed to add Mrs. Oldfield to the Number (tho' we are all aſſured ſhe never was in this Kingdom). We know the Taſk is in your Power; and you will oblige many that have a Regard for you.

Yours, &c.

[200] Every Art has its Origin, but, when brought to full Perfection, it is often in Danger of de⯑caying, and, ſometimes, of being quite loſt in Oblivion. Painting on Glaſs, in this Age, is but a faint Copy of our Forefathers in that Art; and the perdurable Cement of our an⯑tient Caſtles, &c. is now unknown. The Sun ſets to riſe again, but Oldfield's Light is loſt for ever.

I was too young to view her firſt Dawn on the Stage, but yet had the infinite Satisfaction of her Meridian Luſtre, a Glow of Charms not to be beheld but with a trembling Eye! which held her Influence till ſet in Night.

Mr. Farquhar (as I have been informed by herſelf) brought her firſt to ſhine in Public. He accidentally, at a Tavern kept by a near Relation of Mrs. Oldfield's, heard a Perſon reading a Comedy in a Room behind the Bar, with ſuch a juſt Vivacity, and Humour of the Characters, as gave him infinite Surprize, and Satisfaction. His Curioſity was too prevalent to obſerve the Height of good Manners; therefore he made a Pretence to go into the Room, where he was ſtruck dumb, for ſome Time, with her Figure, and blooming Beauty; but was more aſtoniſh'd at her Diſcourſe, and ſprightly Wit. Mr. Farquhar preſs'd her to purſue her Amuſement, but was obliged to de⯑part without that Satisfaction.

Mr. Wilks was, at that Time, in Ireland; therefore he took ſome Pains to acquaint Sir [201] John Vanbrugh (who had ſome Share in the Theatre) with the Jewel he had found thus by Accident. It was ſome Time before ſhe would be prevailed upon; tho' ſhe has merrily told me, I long'd to be at it, and only wanted a little decent Intreaties.

Alinda, in the Pilgrim, was the firſt Part ſhe was taken Notice of in, which Sir John Van⯑brugh alter'd and reviv'd upon her Account; which is a Character of different Species of Paſſions and Variety; where ſhe charm'd the Play into a Run of many ſucceeding Nights.

I remember, in her full Round of Glory in Comedy, ſhe uſed to ſlight Tragedy. She would often ſay, I hate to have a Page dragging my Tail about. Why do they not give Porter theſe Parts? She can put on a better Tragedy Face than I can. When Mithridates was re⯑vived, it was with much Difficulty ſhe was pre⯑vail'd upon to take the Part; but ſhe perform'd it to the utmoſt Length of Perfection, and, after that, ſhe ſeem'd much better reconcil'd to Tragedy. What a majeſtical Dignity in Cleo⯑patra! and, indeed, in every Part that required it: Such a finiſh'd Figure on the Stage, was never yet ſeen. In Caliſta, the Fair Penitent, ſhe was inimitable, in the Third Act, with Ho⯑ratio, when ſhe tears the Letter, with

—To Atoms! thus!
Thus let me tear the vile deteſted Falſhood,
The wicked lying Evidence of Shame!

[202] Her excellent clear Voice of Paſſion, her piercing flaming Eye, with Manner and Action ſuiting, us'd to make me ſhrink with Awe, and ſeem'd to put her Monitor Horatio into a Mouſe-hole. I almoſt gave him up for a troubleſome Puppy; and though Mr. Booth play'd the Part of Lothario, I could hardly lug him up to the Importance of triumphing over ſuch a finiſh'd Piece of Perfection, that ſeemed to be too much dignified to loſe her Virtue.

Even her Amours ſeemed to loſe that Glare which appears round the Perſons of the failing Fair; neither was it ever known, that ſhe trou⯑bled the Repoſe of any Lady's lawful Claim; and was far more conſtant than Millions in the conjugal Nooſe.

She was of a ſuperior Height, but with a lovely Proportion; and the Dignity of her Soul, equal to her Form and Stature, made up of benevolent Charity, affable and good-natur'd to all that deſerv'd it. Mr. Savage, Son to the Earl Rivers, when he was perſecuted by his unnatural Mother, received from her ever⯑giving bountiful Hand, Fifty Pounds a Year during her Life; and ſhe was, with Mr. Wilks, a main Means in ſaving him from an ignomi⯑nious End.

The Part of Sophoniſba, a Tragedy (by Mr. Thomſon, famed for many excellent Poems), was reputed the Cauſe of her Death; for, in her Execution, ſhe went beyond Wonder, to Aſtoniſhment! From that Time her Decay [203] came ſlowly on, and never left her till it con⯑ducted her to eternal Reſt, the 23d of October 1730. She left ſeveral charitable Legacies, and very handſome Fortunes to her two Sons. But let us ſee what better Writers ſay of this Phoenix of the Stage. O! that we might have another from her Aſhes!

You may read, if you pleaſe, what a French Author has wrote on this inimitable Actreſs, as well as ſome Touches on our Engliſh Drama.

Sir Roger Moſtings, Baronet, was paſſion⯑ately in Love with a famous Actreſs called Mrs. Oldfield; and, notwithſtanding her In⯑difference, and even bad Uſage, could not be cur'd—He being at Supper with us when his Diſgrace and Baniſhment were no⯑tified to him, his greateſt Concern was for his Miſtreſs, whom he muſt abandon: His Grief and Love made him ſhed Tears. His Order bore, That he ſhould retire to his Eſtate the next Day; and therefore, as the laſt Remedy for his Love, he propoſed in⯑ſtant Marriage to Mrs. Oldfield, which pro⯑duced no other Effect than a mortifying Re⯑fuſal e. This amiable Woman was admitted, [204] with Pleaſure, into the Company of Ladies of the firſt Rank for Birth and Virtue; who ſeemed to take her Viſits as an Honour done them. It muſt be owned, ſhe is an incomparable ſweet Girl! She reconciled me to the Engliſh Stage. Her Voice, her Shape, and all her Actions, ſo charm'd me, that I made the more Haſte to learn the Language, that I might underſtand her.

The Engliſh are paſſionately fond of Dra⯑matic Entertainments, and I doubt if France can produce ſo many excellent Works of this kind as Britain; and I have ſeen ſome ſuperior to Greece or Rome. They have their Shakeſpear, Dryden, Otway, Congreve, Cibber, Farquhar, and a numerous Train of excellent Tragic and Comic Poets; that have the Force of moving the Soul, with their Energy of Sentiments and Expreſſion, far beyond the Antients.

I ſhall conclude this Account with an Abſ⯑tract of a Copy of Verſes wrote by Mr. Sa⯑vage, illegitimate Son to Earl Rivers, tho' the Author of that unfortunate Gentleman's Life ſeems to deny it; I ſuppoſe, becauſe his [205] Name is not in the Title-page: But firſt, her Epitaph.

Hic juxta requieſcit
Tot inter poetarum laudata nomina
ANNA OLDFIELD.
Nec ipſa minore laude digna,
Quippe quae eorum opera,
In ſcenam quoties prodivit,
Illuſtravit ſemper & nobilitavit.
Nunquam ingenium idem ad partes diverſiſſimas
Habilius fuit:
Ita tamen ut ad ſingulas
Non facta, ſed nata eſſe videretur.
In Tragoediis
Formae ſplendor, oris dignitas, inceſſus, majeſtas,
Tanta vocis ſuavitate temperabantur,
Ut nemo eſſet tam agreſtis, tam durus ſpectator,
Quin in admirationem totus raperetur.
In Comoedia autem
Tanta vis, tam venuſta hilaritas, tam curioſa
Felicitas,
Ut neque ſufficerent ſpectando oculi,
Neque plaudendo manus.

In Engliſh thus:

Near this (among the celebrated Poets)
Reſts the Body of
ANNE OLDFIELD,
Herſelf not leſs deſerving to be celebrated:
For, whenever on the Stage,
Her Action illuſtrated and ennobled
Their Compoſitions.
[206] Never was one Genius ſo adapted to the moſt
Different Parts:
She ſeemed born for each diſtinct.
In TRAGEDY,
Her noble Preſence, elevated Speech, and
Majeſtic Gait, tempered with ſo peculiar
Sweetneſs of Voice, never failed to tranſport the
Moſt Ruſtic, and Inſenſible, into Admiration.
In COMEDY,
She diſcovered ſuch a happy Air, ſuch a
Sprightly and becoming Gaiety,
And ſo delicate an Addreſs,
That neither Eyes were ſatisfied with Seeing,
Nor Hands weary of Applauding.
A POEM to the Memory of Mrs. ANNE OLDFIELD.
OLDFIELD's no more! and can the Muſe forbear
O'er Oldfield's Grave to ſhed a grateful Tear?
Shall ſhe, the Glory of the Britiſh Stage,
Pride of her Sex, and Wonder of the Age;
Shall ſhe, who, living, charm'd th' admiring Throng,
Die undiſtinguiſh'd, and not claim a Song?
No; feeble as it is, I'll boldly raiſe
My willing Voice, to celebrate her Praiſe,
And with her Name immortalize my Lays.
Had but my Muſe her Art to touch the Soul,
Charm ev'ry Senſe, and ev'ry Pow'r controul,
I'd paint her as ſhe was—The Form divine,
Where ev'ry lovely Grace united ſhine;
[207] A Mien majeſtic, as the Wife of Jove;
An Air as winning, as the Queen of Love:
In ev'ry Feature rival Charms ſhould riſe,
And Cupid hold his Empire in her Eyes.
A Soul, with ev'ry Elegance refin'd
By Nature, and the Converſe of Mankind:
Wit, which could ſtrike aſſuming Folly dead;
And Senſe, which temper'd ev'ry thing ſhe ſaid;
Judgment, which ev'ry little Fault could ſpy;
But Candour, that would paſs a Thouſand by:
Such finiſh'd Breeding, ſo polite a Taſte,
Her Fancy always for the Faſhion paſt;
Whilſt ev'ry ſocial Virtue fir'd her Breaſt
To help the Needy, ſuccour the Diſtreſt;
A Friend to all in Miſery ſhe ſtood,
And her chief Pride was plac'd in doing Good.
But now, my Muſe, the arduous Taſk engage,
And ſhew the charming Figure on the Stage;
Deſcribe her Look, her Action, Voice, and Mien,
The gay Coquet, ſoft Maid, or haughty Queen.
So bright ſhe ſhone, in ev'ry diff'rent Part,
She gain'd deſpotic Empire o'er the Heart;
Knew how each various Motion to controul,
Sooth ev'ry Paſſion, and ſubdue the Soul:
As ſhe or gay, or ſorrowful appears,
She claims our Mirth, or triumphs in our Tears.
When Cleopatra's Form ſhe choſe to wear,
We ſaw the Monarch's Mien, the Beauty's Air;
Charm'd with the Sight, her Cauſe we all ap⯑prove,
And, like her Lover, give up all for Love:
Antony's Fate, inſtead of Caeſar's, chooſe,
And wiſh for her we had a World to loſe.
[208]
But now the gay delightful Scene is o'er,
And that ſweet Form muſt glad our World no more;
Relentleſs Death has ſtop'd the tuneful Tongue,
And clos'd thoſe Eyes, for all, but Death, too ſtrong:
Blaſted that Face where ev'ry Beauty bloom'd,
And to eternal Reſt the graceful Mover doom'd.

Mr. PACK,

IN the Remembrance of many, was once on the Stage in this Kingdom, to his no ſmall Terror: For a Storm at Sea, he told me, frighten'd him ſo much, that the Anxiety of returning dwelt ſo ſtrongly on his Mind, that he could not appear half himſelf to the Pub⯑lic; and, to leſſen his Sea-voyage back again, he went to Dunaghadee, in the North of Ire⯑land, and embark'd for Scotland; verifying the old Proverb, The fartheſt Way about, is the neareſt Way home.

He firſt came upon the Stage as a Singer; and being, as they ſay, a ſmock-fac'd Youth, uſed to ſing the Female Parts in Dialogues, with that great Maſter Mr Leveridge, who has ſo many Years charm'd with his manly Voice. But Mr. Pack was excellent in many Parts; as Marplot in the Buſy Body, Beau Maiden in Tunbridge-Walks, Beau Mizen in the Fair Quaker of Deal, &c. indeed Nature ſeem'd to mean him for thoſe ſort of Characters. He [209] had ſuch an Antipathy to the Water, that he would ſooner chooſe to go from the Haymarket to Lambeth round the Bridge, than juſt croſs in a Boat. I heard a certain Peer (as much fam'd for his Wit as his Principles, who died in the Service of Spain) aſk Pack if he would go with him to France for a Month? Yes, re⯑ply'd Mr. Pack, if your Grace will get a Bridge built from Dover to Calais. For Gads curſe me if I ever ſet my Foot over Salt-water again!

Mr. Pack left the Stage in the Meridian of Life, and ſet up a a Tavern (the Globe) near Charing-croſs, over-againſt the Haymarket, where he died, having no Wife, or Iſſue. I know not any Relation he left behind, to la⯑ment his Death.

Had Tranſportation been this Player's Doom,
Conviction had brought ſudden Death at Home.

Mr. WILLIAM PHILLIPS (Harlequin).

THIS extraordinary Perſon was born in Wales, tho' he never knew one Word of his Mother-tongue; neither did I ever hear of the School-miſtreſs that taught him Engliſh: Yet he got perfect in two Parts, and perform'd them both with Applauſe; viz. the Welſh Col⯑lier in the Recruiting Officer, and the Drunken Colonel in the Intriguing Chambermaid: But [210] his great Talent lay in the Mimes and Panto⯑mimes. Tho' the Art does not require much Rhetoric, yet they ſhould have Heads, as well as Heels.

He was taught Tumbling, and Slight of Hand, by that great Maſter of Arts, the ſtu⯑pendous Mr. Faux, and out-did his Maſter in ſeveral Tricks; and was very happy at Inven⯑tion, in eſcaping to Ireland f, where he became a Sharer in Smock-alley, till he, with his Name-ſake, [211] broke the Fraterhood. He was the firſt Projector of the Theatre in Capel-ſtreet; nei⯑ther was he much to blame in this, ſince a Sort of Manager for the Proprietors, who knew as much of the Matter as a Journeyman Taylor does of Bell-founding, by his inimitable Rhe⯑toric perſuaded his Employers, that he and his Wife had too much Salary; and yet, the next Seaſon, gave twenty Times the Sum, to pre⯑vent their Playing: Yet Phillips open'd, and got Money. But, to ſhew his Dexterity, he played a Harlequin Trick; and, in one of his Deceits, made his Eſcape (with his Wife he had here, who was no bad Actreſs) back to Eng⯑land; but did not forget to take more Money than his own along with him—Travelling is chargeable. But Capel-ſtreet Theatre has been ſince occupied, and is ſtill ready, on all Occa⯑ſions.

Thus Juglers Tricks are form'd to cheat the Eyes,
And Knaves have found the Art to trick the Wiſe.

Mrs. PASQUALINO,

WAS a very ſightly Actreſs, with a good Voice: I have forgot her maiden Name, which ſhe firſt changed for Ravenſcroft, an Actor, I am told, of ſome Merit. After his Demiſe, being muſically inclin'd, ſhe ty'd her [212] Fate to Signor Paſqualino, an Italian, eminent for his great Talents that Way. She has left the Stage, to follow the Fortune of her Spouſe; and, I have been inform'd, they were both lately in Holland. Where-ever he is, he can⯑not fail of Reward, from his Merit: For

Muſic has Charms to ſooth a ſavage Breaſt,
To ſoften Rocks, and bend the knotted Oak.

I ſhall conclude with Mrs. Paſqualino, by inſerting a few Lines of a Poet, on her leaving the Stage; tho' ſome Poets, like ſome Paint⯑ers, do not draw exact Likeneſſes; and are too prone to Flattery.

Adieu! unſpotted Excellence, adieu!
Chaſte, ſpite of Cenſure; ſpite of Envy, true—
Mature in Judgment far above thy Age,
And, what's more wond'rous, virtuous on the Stage!
Ah! yet return! nor rob us of Delight;
Continue ſtill to raviſh with thy Sight!
Whether in Deſdemona's tender Strain,
Or ſofter Belvidera, you complain;
Or in Monimia force the pitying Tear,
Or in the Airs of Millamant appear;
Or Lady Betty Modiſh, you impart,
In Characters aſſum'd, a real Dart!
Receive this Plaudit from th' admiring Muſe,
Nor Tribute, to thy Merit paid, refuſe—
And muſt we, then, the Loſs of thee deplore?
Shall we, then, ſee thy lovely Face no more?
[213] Adieu!—The Stage is, nearly, its Decline;
Since we muſt thee, the Boaſt of it, reſign.

Mr. JAMES QUIN.

THIS great and juſt Actor was born in King-ſtreet, Covent-garden, the 24th of February, 1693. tho' Numbers believe he owes his Birth to Ireland. His Anceſtors were of an antient Family in this Kingdom: His Grand⯑father, Alderman Mark Quin, was Lord Mayor of the City of Dublin in the Year 1676. in the Reign of King Charles the Second; the Father of our Roſcius received a liberal Education in Trinity College, Dublin; from thence he went over to Lincoln's-Inn, to finiſh his Studies, where he was called to the Bar; but, at the Death of his Father (who left him a plentiful Eſtate), he returned with his Son, then an In⯑fant, to take Poſſeſſion.

Mr. James Quin was educated under the Care of Dr. Jones, of Dublin (a Perſon emi⯑nent for Learning), till the Death of his Father in the Year 1710. Mr. Quin was undoubted Heir to his Eſtate, but through his Youth, and Inexperience of the Courts, a Suit of Law hung ſo long in Chancery, till he, unenabled to carry the Cauſe farther, was obliged to drop it, for want of proper Aſſiſtance. I am inform'd, a powerful Guider of the Law was his Anta⯑goniſt; and a Perſon has but a bad Chance to fight a Duel with a Fencing-maſter.

[214] Our eminent Actor firſt appeared on the Stage in old Smock-alley, in the Part of Abel in the Committee. I muſt take ſome little Pride, when I declare I imagine myſelf the firſt that perſuaded him not to ſmother his riſing Genius in this Kingdom, where, at that Time, there was no great Encouragement for Merit, and try his Fortune in London; whither, by his kind and ever-to-be-remember'd Recommendation, I ſoon follow'd him.

It is, in ſome ſort, a Hardſhip to a riſing Genius, in the firſt Entrance to a regular eſta⯑bliſh'd Company: The Parts are all ſupplied, and, like Under-officers in an Army, they muſt wait for Preſerment, or do ſomething extraor⯑dinary, before they can expect it. An Acci⯑dent fell out, that gave our young Actor a happy Opportunity.

The Managers had an Order, from the Lord Chamberlain, to revive the Play of Tamerlane, for the 4th of November 1716. which was got up with the utmoſt Magnificence. The third Night the late Mr. Mills (who perform'd Ba⯑jazet) was taken ſuddenly ill, and, with much Perſuaſion, Mr. Quin was prevailed upon to read the Part, which was thought a great Un⯑dertaking for a young Actor of his Standing; but, to the Mortification of ſeveral Competi⯑tors, he ſucceeded ſo well, that the Audience gave him their general Applauſe, through the whole Courſe of the Part. The next Night he made himſelf perfect, and performed it with redoubled Applauſes of Approbation; and was [215] complimented by ſeveral Perſons of Diſtinction, and dramatic Taſte, upon his early riſing Ge⯑nius.

But as the Theatrical World is a Picture, in Miniature, of the Great, Envy will ſhake her ſnaky Locks; People of twice his Age thought his Progreſs a little too rapid for their Appro⯑bation. His Temper took fire at the viſible Depreſſion; he bore it ſome Time with Tem⯑per, but the firſt Opportunity he engag'd with Mr. Rich in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, where, by juſt Degrees, he attained the higheſt Round of Perfection; and (not to take any Merit from other Performers) was certainly the chief Pillar that ſupported all the Theatres where-ever he has performed. I will not take upon me to point out his Excellencies in any particular Part, ſince he is excellent in all: Therefore I ſhall end, with the immortal Shakeſpear,

He is a Man, take him for all in all,
I ne'er ſhall look upon his Like again.

The great Honour this Gentleman has re⯑ceived from the ſecond Illuſtrious Perſon in the Kingdom, in truſting the Royal Blood to his Care, will better ſpeak his Excellence than my weak Skill can do.

Mr. LACY RYAN.

[216]

THIS Gentleman was once in Ireland with the celebrated Mr. Quin, and Mrs. Clive, in the Year 1741. He was born in England in the Year 1694. The firſt Part he was taken Notice of in, was that of Marcus in Cato, which was firſt acted in 1712.

In the Run of that celebrated Tragedy he was accidentally brought into a Fray with ſome of our Tritons on the Thames; and, in the Scuffle, a Blow on the Noſe was given him by one of theſe Water-bullies, who neither regard Men nor Manners: I remember, the ſame Night, as he was brought on the Bier, after his ſuppos'd Death in the Fourth Act of Cato, the Blood, from the real Wound in the Face, guſh'd out with Violence; that Hurt had no other Effect than juſt turning his Noſe a little, tho' not to Deformity; yet ſome People ima⯑gine it gave a very ſmall Alteration to the Tone of his Voice, tho' nothing diſagreeable. He acquitted himſelf in many capital Parts, both in Tragedy and Comedy, to the Satiſ⯑faction of his Auditors; and has been ever eſteemed in the firſt Rank of Actors.

Some few Years ago another unfortunate Accident befel him: As he was going home to his Houſe after his Night's Performance, he was attack'd by a Street robber; and, making Reſiſtance, the Villain ſhot a Brace of Piſtol-Bullets [217] into his Mouth, which broke ſome Part of his Jaw: By the Help of a Lamp the Rob⯑ber knew Mr. Ryan, as I have been inform'd, begg'd his Pardon for his Miſtake, and ran off. Of this Hurt, too, he recover'd, after a long Illneſs, and play'd with Succeſs, as before, with⯑out any ſeeming Alteration of Voice or Face. His Royal Highneſs, upon this Accident, ſent him a handſome Preſent; and others, of the Nobility, copy'd the laudable Example of the ſecond illuſtrious Perſon in the three King⯑doms. I ſhall ſay no more of Mr. Ryan, but that he is genteel, and well-made.

This Gentleman has made ſeveral Excur⯑ſions in the Region of Poetry; particularly a Piece, of one Act, call'd The Coblers Opera, which has often been performed with good Succeſs.

No Mark of Age in Face or Form appears,
But Manhood bord'ring on the Vale of Years.

Mrs. REYNOLDS.

THE Huſband of this Perſon gathered a Company of Actors in the Hay-market, London, where they, ſome Years ago, met with Succeſs, for a Time; but at laſt it fell to-pieces, the Sinews being relax'd by an intemperate Conſtitution. Mrs. Reynolds was well eſteem'd, for a very good Performer, in this Kingdom; [218] but her Reputation ſeems now to be forgot: She's to be pitied, if it is not her own Fault.

Scandal may heal, like gaping Wounds in War;
Yet leave behind the long-diſtinguiſh'd Scar.

THOMAS SHERIDAN, Eſq

THIS excellent Actor was born in this Kingdom, Son to that very eminent the Reverend Dr. Sheridan, a Gentleman whoſe Memory will never be forgot, while Learning holds the Reins to check the vicious Mind, and guide us in the Paths of Virtue. Men are but human Brutes, poring in the Dark, with⯑out ſome Light of Education. Under ſuch a Father, and at ſuch a Fountain of Learning as this Nurſery of Erudition (Trinity College), no Wonder for our young Actor to riſe in Per⯑fection. He was ſome Time in Weſtminſter School, and as his Mind led him to look early towards the Drama, he had the Advantage of ſeeing the Regularity of the Britiſh Theatres, which he does not only copy, but many, who have ſeen both, find the Colours and Drapery ſo ſtrong, that, at this Diſtance, it ſtands in equal Goodneſs to the Original.

To this Gentleman we owe the Decency that has been long wanting on the Hibernian Stage, a Difficulty no one Perſon could have ſurmounted but himſelf; and tho' Merit does [219] not always meet its proper Reward, yet the Seeds of Flowers and Roots he had planted and ſown in this theatrical Garden, flouriſh ſweet and amiable, and, like a Maſter in the Art, Reward follows his Pains and Judgment in Culture.

The Unmeritorious paſs unobſerved, while Merit is commonly the Butt for Envy to empty her whole Quiver of poiſon'd Arrows at; yet they generally fall ſhort of their in⯑tended Mark. I ſhall leave this Gentleman to his proſperous and deſerved Succeſs, with the Character of Envy drawn by the inimitable Pen of Mr. Pope.

Envy will Merit, as its Shade, purſue;
But, like the Shadow, proves the Subſtance too;
For envy'd Wit, like Sol eclips'd, makes known
Th' oppoſing Body's Groſſneſs, not its own.
When firſt that Sun too-pow'rful Beams diſ⯑plays,
It draws up Vapours, which obſcure its Rays;
But ev'n thoſe Clouds, at laſt, adorn its Way,
Reflect new Glories, and augment the Day.

Mr. LUKE SPARKS.

MR. Sparks was born in this Kingdom, and has, by inceſſant Attention to the Drama, arrived to be a well-eſteemed Perſon in the Buſineſs of the Theatre; and there are many capital Parts in the Compaſs of his Power; ſo [220] that he may be accounted a Perſon in the higheſt ſecond Claſs. I have ſeen him bear up the Burden of a leading Part to pleaſe the Au⯑dience, without thinking of a better to ſtand in his Place. He is equally uſeful in the Buſkin and Sock, and has the Advantage of a good Perſon and Voice, join'd to diligent Study. He is eſteem'd an excellent Oeconomiſt, which may be accounted a very valuable Diſpoſition in the theatrical World; there is ſomething in the very Science of the Stage that urges on to pleaſurable Expence I knew a Gentleman that call'd London the Body of Pleaſure, and the Theatre the Heart.

Mr. Sparks is now in London, at the Foun⯑tain of theatrical Erudition; and, I make no doubt, from his good Senſe, at his Return to his native Country, he will meet with the pro⯑per Eſteem his Merit deſerves. All, or moſt People, find Satisfaction in Novelty; and a long Poſſeſſion of the beſt Things is apt to depreciate them.

'Tis Novelty that brightens all our Joys;
Ev'n Beauty's Self, by long Poſſeſſion, cloys.

Mr. ISAAC SPARKS.

THERE are many Parts that become the Figure of this Perſon, which is of a ſuperior Height; and Nature has beſtowed upon him a Vein of Humour that gives Sa⯑tisfaction [221] to the Audience. I have not ſeen him act ſince his Return to his native Country; but I am inform'd, by very good Judges, that he performs the Character of Sir Samſon Le⯑gend, in Love for Love, to the utmoſt Per⯑fection, with many Characters of that Caſt; which will prove almoſt as uſeful in a Theatre as a Hero, or a Lover.

True Merit, with magnetic Impulſe, draws
A willing Contribution of Applauſe.

Mr. CHARLES STORER,

WAS born in England, in the Town of Lancaſter. His ſtrong Inclination for the Stage led him early to try his Fortune there, where he has ſucceeded very well. His good Underſtanding keeps him within the Bounds of his own Power, which is the ready Road never to meet with Diſpleaſure. I think his Talent leads him to old Men in Comedy, and the artificial Wrinkles in his Face ſeem to content him beſt, which is ſomething ſingular with young Perſons in a Theatre: For to ap⯑pear pretty Fellows, is generally the Aim of all young Attempters in the theatrical Province. I have ſeen him give great Satisfaction in Go⯑mez in the Spaniſh Fryar, Foreſight in Love for Love, with other Parts of the ſame Caſt: And what, in my Opinion, ſhews the Strength [222] of his Judgment is, that he was ſome Years before he entered into any eſtabliſh'd Theatre: Therefore he has followed the beſt Guide, Na⯑ture, which is ever ſure to be right.

Good Senſe and Nature are not form'd by Art;
But ſpring from ſecret Movements of the Heart.

Mrs. STORER (formerly Miſs CLARK),

REcommends herſelf by her amiable Perſon, Good-nature, and her excellent ſweet har⯑monious Manner in Singing; therefore ſhe is too much deſired to ſhew her Excellence that Way, to perform many Speaking Parts, but where her exalted Talent is required: And then, whatever ſhe ſays, or ſings, thus properly introduced, ſhe doubly charms in. I ſhall end with four Lines of a Poem on Ranelagh Gar⯑dens, written laſt Summer in London.

Then Storer—with her ſweet inchanting Strains,
Steals to our Hearts, and o'er our Senſes reigns;
With raviſh'd Ears we hear the pleaſing Sounds,
And heav'nly Joys the vaulted Roof reſounds.

GEORGE SWAN, Eſq

[223]

IS a Gentleman of a good Family, born in England. He was made Manager of the Play-houſe in Aungier-ſtreet; which, I think, was a difficult Attempt for a Gentleman almoſt a Stranger to the Affairs of a Theatre. It is a very thinking Taſk; and a Perſon of Plea⯑ſure muſt either drop his Purſuits of that Kind, or ſink in the boiſterous Waves, which will require all his Time and Art to ſteer his Veſ⯑ſel right: As well may a Country Gentle⯑man, who never ſaw the Sea, by Intereſt take the Command of a Firſt Rate Man of War. However, this Perſon, by a genteel Behaviour, accompany'd with Affability, joined with good Nature, gained the Eſteem of every one. He played ſeveral Parts with a delicate De⯑cency. A Perſon of Diſtinction aſked an Actor his Opinion of Mr. Swan's Perform⯑ance, who reply'd, He played very well as a Gentleman. The Perſon replied, I ſhould be very glad to ſee you play like one with all my Heart.

I have heard Mr. Swan has eſpouſed a Lady of conſiderable Fortune in England g, which [224] he may know how to uſe to the beſt Advan⯑tage; but the Management of a Theatre was a Taſk too hard for him.

As well may Readers turn reverſe the Book,
Or reap the Harveſt with a Pruning-hook.

Mr. JOHN THURMOND,

WAS an Actor of Repute in this Kingdom about Thirty Years paſt, and ſtood in many capital Parts, being then a Sharer in old Smock-Alley Theatre with Mr. Thomas El⯑rington, &c.

To let you ſee how formerly even Tragedy Heroes were now-and-then put to their Shifts, I'll tell you a ſhort Story that befel Mr. Thur⯑mond.

It was a Cuſtom, at that Time, for Perſons of the Firſt Rank and Diſtinction to give their Birth-Day Suits to the moſt favoured Actors. I think Mr. Thurmond was honour'd by General Ingoldſby with his. But his Fi⯑nances being at the laſt Tide of Ebb, the rich Suit was put in Buckle (a Cant Word for Forty in the Hundred Intereſt): One Night, Notice was given that the General would be preſent with the Government at the Play, and all the Performers on the Stage were preparing to dreſs out in the Suits preſented. The Spouſe of Johnny (as he was commonly called) try'd all her Arts to perſuade Mr. Holdfaſt the [225] Pawnbroker (as it fell out, his real Name) to let go the Cloaths for that Evening, to be returned when the Play was over: But all Arguments were fruitleſs; nothing but the Ready, or a Pledge of full equal Value. Such People would have deſpiſed a Demoſthenes, or a Cicero, with all their Rhetorical Flouriſhes, if their Oratorian Gowns had been in Pledge. Well! what muſt be done? The whole Fa⯑mily in Confuſion, and all at their Wits-End; Diſgrace, with her glaring Eyes, and extend⯑ed Mouth, ready to devour. Fatal Appear⯑ance! At laſt Winny the Wife (that is, Win⯑nifrede) put on a compos'd Countenance (but, alas! with a troubled Heart); ſtepp'd to a neighbouring Tavern, and beſpoke a very hot Negus, to comfort Johnny in the great Part he was to perform that Night, begging to have the Silver Tankard with the Lid, be⯑cauſe, as ſhe ſaid, a Covering, and the Vehicle Silver, would retain Heat longer than any other Metal. The Requeſt was comply'd with, the Negus carry'd to the Play-houſe piping hot—popp'd into a vile earthen Mug—the Tankard L'argent travelled Incog. under her Apron (like the Perſian Ladies veil'd), popp'd into the Pawnbroker's Hands, in exchange for the Suit—put on, and play'd its Part, with the reſt of the Wardrobe; when its Duty was over, carried back to remain in its old Depo⯑ſitory—the Tankard return'd the right Road; and, when the Tide flow'd with its Lunar In⯑fluence, the ſtranded Suit was waſted into ſafe [226] Harbour again, after paying a little for dry Docking, which was all the Damage receiv'd.

Mr. Thurmond died in London, when he was one of the Company in Drury-Lane Theatre; a merry, good-natured Companion to the laſt.

Thus Woman's Wit (tho' ſome account it evil)
With artful Wiles can over-reach the Devil.

Mrs. THURMOND.

HER maiden Name was Lewis, born of reputable Parents at Epſom in Surry. She was married to Mr. John Thurmond, the Son of the above-mentioned: He is a Perſon of a clean Head and a clear Heart, and inherits the Mirth and Humour of his late Father.

Mrs. Thurmond has an amiable Perſon and good Voice: She wiſely left the Buſtle and Buſineſs of the Stage, in her full and ripe Per⯑formance; and, at that time, left behind her but few that excell'd her. Mr. Thurmond contriv'd many profitable Pantomimes for the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, and was eſteem⯑ed formerly a very good Stage Dancer; but left the Practice, before it left him.

The flow'ry Bloom of May adorns the Stage:
We ſhed our Luſtre in declining Age.
But, yet, how few obſerve the lab'ring Ant,
To ſave a Winter-Store, when moſt they want!

Mr. VANDERBANK,

[227]

WAS born in England, in the Year 1684. His Father came originally from Hol⯑land. Mr. Vanderbank was brought up in the Sea-Service; but, not liking that inconſtant Element, he embarked on a Trading Theatre in England for ſome time, till he made a Voyage to this Kingdom, where he has re⯑mained theſe Two-and-thirty Years. He was, as Shakeſpear ſays, Sunk in the Vale of Years, when I arrived here in 1741. and has not per⯑formed many Parts ſince that Time, But I am informed, both he and Mrs. Vanderbank ſtood in high Eſteem formerly; but they have both left the Stage ſome time.

Declining Age to ſprightly Youth gives place,
As theſe muſt do the next Theatric Race.

Mr. BENJAMIN VICTOR.

I Might have, in one reſpect, omitted this Gentleman, as he only performed for his own Diverſion. But as few Perſons, that are not profeſs'd Actors, know better, as I may ſay, the Dignity of the Theatre, than himſelf, I hope he will excuſe this mentioning him to the Public. He was bred in London, had a genteel Education, and, from a juſt Way of [228] Thinking and Acting, has improved his Me⯑rits. Tho' he does not make Poetry his Pro⯑feſſion, yet I have ſeen ſeveral correct little Poems of his. As he has wrote many agree⯑able Pieces, that have never come to the Preſs, I ſhall beg Leave, as a Taſte, to give one that has.

A CANTATA,
Performed at the Caſtle of Dublin the 21ſt of January 1747-8. the Birth-Day of his Royal Highneſs FREDERIC, Prince of WALES. Set to Muſic by Mr. Dubourg.
RECITATIVE.
LET the ſoft captivating Strains
Of ſwelling Harmony begin:
In tuneful Numbers let the Swains
Great Harrington's Attention win:
Hibernia, pleas'd, will liſten to the Lay,
That welcomes in our FRED'RIC's natal Day!
AIR.
Hail! Day of Hope! O Prince renown'd!
Belov'd! with ev'ry Virtue crown'd!
Enrich'd with Merit in thy earlieſt Youth,
Friend to the Friends of Liberty and Truth!
The ſocial Titles all are thine:
They make the Great illuſtrious ſhine!
The Muſe can with Delight commend,
The Huſband, Father, and the Friend.
Da Capo.
[229]RECITATIVE.
Ne'er ſhall corroding Cares his Breaſt intrude;
For ſuch can no Admiſſion find
Within the bright unblemiſh'd Mind,
That knows the Joys of heav'nly Solitude.
DUET.
There, happy, free from public Strife,
He taſtes the Sweets of private Life;
Bleſs'd with AUGUSTA, and her Race,
With whom our Hopes and Joys increaſe;
Future Sceptres they ſhall wield,
Shine in Courts, and graſp the Shield.
Da Capo.
CHORUS.
Live, FRED'RIC! live, to teach their Youth,
How to rule where Freedom reigns;
More than Crowns to value Truth,
And bind fierce Tyranny in Chains.

This Gentleman has uſher'd Two little Pieces on the Stage; one, a Paſtoral; the other, The Mock Pilgrim, altered into One Act from a Comedy of Beaumont and Fletcher.

Mrs. VINCENT (formerly Miſs BINKS),

WHEN I left England, Seven Years ago, was a very promiſing young Actreſs; and I am informed, from thoſe that have ſeen her on the Stage here, that ſhe is greatly im⯑proved; which I am apt to believe from the [230] Judgment of the Manager, who would cer⯑tainly give the beſt Parts to the beſt Perform⯑ers. 'Tis the Intereſt of all Theatrical Ma⯑nagers to perform every thing in the beſt Manner; to do otherwiſe would be hurting themſelves.

That Teacher might be juſtly call'd a Fool,
Who plac'd a Dunce in his firſt Claſs at School.

ROBERT WILKS, Eſq

THE Anceſtors of this moſt excellent Co⯑median, were ſeated many Ages in an affluent Inheritance at Bromſgrove hin Wor⯑ceſterſhire, where moſt of the chief Inhabit⯑ants bear the Name of Wilks.

The Grandfather of our excellent Comedian (Judge Wilks), in the Civil Wars, rais'd a Troop of Horſe, at his own Expence, for the Service of the unfortunate King Charles the Firſt, which was commanded by Col. Wilks, Brother to the Judge, and Great Uncle to our Comedian.

In that unnatural War, the Family ſuffered greatly by Rapine and Perſecution; which was the main Motive that ſent Edward Wilks, Eſq with his Wife, and the ſhatter'd Remains of an ample Fortune, to Dublin, for the Security of his Perſon, &c.

[231] Our great Comedian was born at Rathfarn⯑ham near Dublin, in the Year 1670. His Fa⯑ther gave him a genteel Education. He wrote an excellent fine maſterly Hand, with ſuch Celerity that was ſurpriſing. His Genius re⯑commended him to Secretary Southwell, who confirm'd him one of his Clerks when Eighteen Years of Age.

His firſt Inclination to the Theatre proceed⯑ed from the Praiſes of Mr. Richards, then an Actor on the Dublin Stage. Mr. Richards lodg'd near Mr. Wilks; and, being intimate with each other, he uſed to hold the Book of the Play, to hear if Richards was perfect in the Part he was then ſtudying. Mr. Wilks uſed to read the introductive Speeches, with ſuch proper Emphaſis, Cadence, and all the various Paſſions, that the Encomiums given by Mr. Richards began to fire his Mind for the Drama. It was with very little Perſua⯑ſion he ventured to act privately the Colonel in the Spaniſh Fryar, at Mr. Aſhbury's, the enſuing Chriſtmas; where he received ſuch Approbation from that great Maſter, as confirm'd his Intention.

The firſt Part he played on the Theatre was Othello, with the utmoſt Applauſe; and, as he told me, pleaſed all but himſelf. He went on with great Succeſs, for Two Years, when his Friend Mr. Richards iadviſed him to try his [232] Fortune in England, and gave him Letters of Recommendation to Mr. Betterton, who re⯑ceiv'd him very kindly, and entered him at Fifteen Shillings a Week.

His firſt Appearance on the Engliſh Stage, was in the Part of the young Prince in the Maid's Tragedy, a very inſignificant Character, requiring little more than an amiable Figure. Mr. Betterton performed Melantius; but when that veteran Actor came to addreſs him on the Battlements, to excuſe himſelf for the Death of the King in the Play, Mr. Wilks affirmed to me, that the Dignity of Mr. Betterton ſtruck him with ſuch an Awe, that he had much ado to utter the little he had to ſay. Mr. Bet⯑terton, obſerving his Confuſion, ſaid to him, Young Man, this Fear does not ill become you; a Horſe that ſets out at the Strength of his Speed will ſoon be jaded.

However, Mr. Wilks ſoon ſhook off his Apprehenſions, and began to riſe in the Eſteem of the Audience, and better Parts gained him a better Salary.

He often aſſiſted Mr. Harris (an eminent Dancing-maſter at that time) in teaching his Scholars; and, by his genteel Addreſs, gained the Affection of a young Lady, Daughter to Ferdinand Knapton, Eſq Steward of the New Foreſt in Hampſhire, and by Conſent of the Father they were joined in Wedlock. By this Gentlewoman he had one Son and Daughter; the Son died in his Youth; the Daughter was [233] married to Captain Price k, to whom he made up a Fortune of a thouſand Pounds.

Mr. Wilks's Finances not well anſwering the State of an increaſing Family, he preſs'd for an Addition to his Salary, which every Per⯑ſon but the Manager thought he deſerved; but his Requeſt was not complied with.

Mr. Aſhbury in Ireland, hearing of his Diſ⯑content, came over on Purpoſe to engage him. He agreed with Mr. Wilks for Sixty Pounds a Year, and a clear Benefit, which in thoſe Times was much more than any other Actor ever had. When he went to take his Leave of Mr. Betterton, the Manager was with him. That great Actor expreſſed ſome Concern at his leaving the Company. "I fanſy (ſaid Mr. Betterton) that Gentleman (pointing to the Manager), if he has not too much Ob⯑ſtinacy to own it, will be the firſt that re⯑pents your parting; for, if I foreſee aright, you will be greatly wanted here."

Mr. Wilks told me this Speech gave him infinite Pleaſure; and made him reſolve to ſearch into himſelf, to find out what Mr. Bet⯑terton's known Judgment ſeemed to promiſe he might find. Praiſe from an Adept in any Science will excite Emulation, and, with ſome People, do more than Reward. From this Time Mr. Wilks grew more aſſiduous, and thought every Moment loſt, that was not laid [234] out upon his Studies, till he arrived at that ſu⯑preme Excellence, even now remembered by innumerable Judges of the Drama.

It was not long before the prophetic Words of Mr. Betterton were fulfilled. For the unfor⯑tunate Death of Mountford l was the Sickneſs of all their genteel Comedies, till his Parts could be ſupplied. Mr. Wilks, therefore, was immediately ſent to, with Propoſals of Four Pounds a Week; which was a Salary equal to Mr. Betterton. This was too advantageous an Offer to be refuſed; therefore he prepared for his Journey privately. Mr. Aſhbury was ſo unwilling to part with him, that he procured an Order from the Duke of Ormond (then Lord Lieutenant) to prevent his going; but a par⯑ticular Friend giving him timely Notice there⯑of, he went ſecretly to Hoath, where a Boat waited to convey him on board, and he landed ſafe in England.

[235] The firſt Part he performed of Mountford's was Palamede min Dryden's Marriage Alamode, a Comedy, with ſuch extraordinary Succeſs, as he often ſaid, it made him almoſt mad with Joy. I need ſay no more of his Progreſs in Succeſs, than that he ſailed in the full Tide of Fortune, till he arrived ſafely to reign un⯑rivalled to his Death.

And, as a Reward for his great Merit, he was joined in the Patent granted by Queen Anne in the Year 1709. He was alſo Mana⯑ger of the Whole; and I ſhall not take from the Merit of others, when I ſay, From his ſole Directions the Stage gained new Life, and Reward followed the Induſtry. For a conti⯑nued Courſe of the Three Managers, for more than Twenty Years, the Stage was in full Perfection; their Green-Rooms nwere free from Indecencies of every Kind, and might juſtly be compared to the moſt elegant Draw⯑ing-Rooms of the Prime Quality: No Fops or Coxcombs ever ſhew'd their Monkey Tricks there; but if they chanc'd to thruſt in, were aw'd into Reſpect; even Perſons of the Firſt Rank and Taſte, of both Sexes, would of⯑ten mix with the Performers, without any [236] Stain to their Honour or Underſtanding: And, indeed, Mr. Wilks was ſo genteelly elegant in his Fancy of Dreſs for the Stage, that he was often followed in his Faſhion, tho', in the Street, his Plainneſs of Habit was re⯑markable.

In March 1713-14. Mrs. Wilks o left this World, to the inconſolable Sorrow of her wor⯑thy Huſband: He continued unmarried up⯑wards of Seven Years. In the mean time he renewed his Acquaintance with Mrs. Fell, Re⯑lict of Charles Fell, Eſq of an antient Fa⯑mily in Lancaſhire, and married her. This Gentlewoman's maiden Name was Brown, of a reputable Family in Suſſex p.

[237] Mr. Wilks's Excellence in Comedy was never once diſputed, but the beſt Judges ex⯑tol him for the different Parts in Tragedy; as Hamlet, Caſtalio in the Orphan, Ziphares in Mithridates, Edgar in King Lear, Norfolk in the Albion Queens, Piercy in Anna Bullen, Earl of Eſſex, Shore, Macduff, Moneſes in Tamerlane, Jaffeir in Venice Preſerv'd; and a countleſs Catalogue of other Parts in Tra⯑gedy, which he was allowed to perform in their full Perfection.

He was not only perfect in every Part he acted, but in thoſe that were concerned with him in every Scene, which often prevented Miſtakes.

[238] But let me have recourſe to other Pens for his Excellencies. One writes thus:

‘No ſooner had Mr. Wilks left the Hiber⯑nian Stage, and appeared on the Britiſh, but that ſinking Theatre raiſed its drooping Head; and what was reckoned almoſt a Scandal to belong to, has ever ſince been, by that great Man's Management and Ju⯑ſtice, raiſed to the greateſt Theatre in the Univerſe.’ Female Tatler.

‘The Perſon and Behaviour of Mr. Wilks, in the Part of Eſſex, has no ſmall Share in conducing to the Popularity of the Play.’ Tatler, No. 14. Vol. 1.

‘This Performance (The Trip to the Ju⯑bilee) is the greateſt Inſtance that we can have of the irreſiſtible Force of proper Action. Mr. Wilks enters into the Part with ſo much Skill, that the Gallantry, the Youth, and Gaiety, of a young Man of a plentiful Fortune, is looked upon with as much Indulgence on the Stage, as in real Life.’ Tatler, No. 19.

In the Preface to the ſame Play the Au⯑thor ſays: "Whenever the Stage has the Misfortune to loſe Mr. Wilks, that Wildair may go to the Jubilee."

In the Preface to the Stratagem, the Author ends thus: ‘The Reader may find ſome Faults in this Play, which my Illneſs pre⯑vented the amending of; but there is great Amends made in the Repreſentation, which cannot be matched, no more than [239] the friendly and indefatigable Care of Mr. Wilks, to whom I chiefly owe the Succeſs of the Play.’

Here is enough ſaid to illuſtrate the per⯑ſonal Qualifications of this Gentleman as an Actor; therefore let me attempt to delineate his Mind.

His Purſe was ever open to proper Objects of Charity; and I have often ſeen Tears in his Eyes at the Relation of any Misfortune that befel others. He was ever the firſt Pro⯑poſer in any joint Charity from the Theatrical Stock, and, I am convinced, has often pre⯑vailed upon their unwilling Liberality. His Care of the Orphan Daughters of Mr. Far⯑quhar, by giving them ſeveral Benefit Plays, continued to the laſt of his Days; and, in loſing him, they have in Reality loſt a Father: But, I hope, his conſtant Stream of Bounty has placed them above Want. In ſhort, his private Acts of Charity are numberleſs. I ſhall add one in particular.

A Gentleman, a Native of Ireland, whoſe Name is Smith, who received a liberal Educa⯑tion in Trinity-College, Dublin, brought a Tra⯑gedy to the Managers of the Theatre-Royal in Drury-Lane, for their Approbation: The Play was read, and returned, with Deſire to make ſome Alterations for the next Seaſon. This poſtponing but ill agreed with our Author's Circumſtances, that loudly called for a ſpeedy Supply. Mr. Wilks, knowing the ill State of his Finances, bought a Night of his Bro⯑ther [240] ther Managers, and gave it to Mr. Smith for a Benefit. Yet he did not think that ſuſ⯑ficient, but uſed all his Intereſt to make it truly a Benefit, and put a Hundred Guineas clear in the Author's Pocket; with which he took Leave of his Benefactor, and the Muſes; embarked for Holland, where he put himſelf under the Tuition of the great Boerhaave at Leyden; and, in time, profited ſo well, that his great Maſter of Medicine ſent him to Peterſburgh, at the Requeſt of the Czarina, where, at his firſt Arrival, a handſome Pen⯑ſion was ſettled upon him. I have ſeen ſeveral Letters from this Gentleman to Mr. Wilks; a Copy of one I procured from his Widow, which I ſhall give as a Note, for the Singu⯑larity of it q.

[241] This great and good Man continued to charm till the laſt of his performing on the [242] Stage. He left this World the 27th of Sep⯑tember 1732. and, I muſt declare, I have not yet ſeen his Equal in Comedy. His diſconſolate Widow cauſed the following Inſcription to be put on his Monument in St. Paul's, Covent⯑garden r, with the Arms of the Wilks's Fa⯑mily; which are, Three Roſes, and a Roſe for the Creſt. His ſecond Wife lies alſo in the ſame Vault, lately deceaſed.

Near this Place
(In Hopes of a happy Reſurrection)
Lies the Body of ROBERT WILKS, Eſq
One of the Patentees of his Majeſty's Theatre.
A Man in private Life,
For many amiable Qualities, juſtly eſteemed;
In Public univerſally applauded.
In the ſame Vault
(United again in Death)
Lies his beloved and loving Wife, MARY,
Daughter of John Brown, Eſq of Spelmonden
In the County of Kent,
[243] Relict of Charles Fell, Eſq of Swarthmore-hall In Lancaſhire;
An affectionate Wife, and indulgent Mother;
A kind Miſtreſs, and a faithful Friend.
Her charitable Diſpoſition to the Poor
Was at all times extended, to the utmoſt of Her Power,
And flowed from a Heart ſenſibly affected
With Compaſſion and Benevolence.

There is no Iſſue left of this excellent Man to perpetuate his Memory; but his good Deeds will laſt for ever. I ſhall finiſh with two Lines of a Poem wrote upon his Death.

Farewel! O born with ev'ry Art to pleaſe!
Politeneſs, Grace, Gentility, and Eaſe.

Mr. HENRY WOODWARD,

WAS born in the Year 1717. in London, where he received a genteel Education. He is a very thriving Comedian, and a very peaceable Mimic, for he never ſtrikes firſt; but, if he receives the firſt Blow, he generally returns it with double the Strength of his Ad⯑verſary. He is an excellent Harlequin, and has what moſt of the motley-coat Gentry want, an excellent Head to his Heels; and if his black Maſk ſhould be thrown aſide for a whole Age (tho' Levity will hardly lie ſo long obſcured), yet, as a juſt and pleaſing Actor in Comedy, [244] he can never want Encouragement any-where, if Theatres are in Uſe, joined to his good Un⯑derſtanding and Pleaſantry. His Good-nature is ever conſpicuous upon all proper Occaſions, cool in his Reſentments, and warm in his Friend⯑ſhips, a Man fit for the World, and the World for him; and knows how to look on Fortune.

Fortune a Goddeſs is to Fools alone;
The Wiſe are always Maſters of their own.

Mr. ROBERT WETHERILT.

THIS Perſon was born at Stamford in Lincolnſhire, in the Year 1708. where his Father and Mother, belonging to a Country Company, were then playing. He play'd, as he inform'd me, the Part of the Duke of York in Richard the Third, before he could ſpeak plain; ſo that it may be ſaid, he was born an Actor. He came with his Mother (who was a well-eſteemed Actreſs at that Time) to Drury⯑lane a Boy, where he ſhewed his riſing Ge⯑nius, firſt, in the Part of 'Squire Richard in the Provok'd Husband; from thence he went to the Theatre in Goodman's-Fields, where he marry'd the Siſter of Mr. Denis Delane, then of that Theatre.

In the Year 1738. he came over into this Kingdom, and may be well remember'd; his Excellence, in ſeveral Parts of Comedy, having not yet been outdone. I cannot avoid men⯑tioning [245] a Paſſage in the Life of this truly good Comedian.

While he and his Family belong'd to the Theatre-Royal in Drury-lane, after the Com⯑pany had finiſh'd the Seaſon of Playing in London (which generally is at the End of May), he, with his Father and Mother, went, for the Summer-ſeaſon, to play at ſeveral Towns in Lincolnſhire (the Cuſtom of many of both eſtabliſhed Theatres). When the Company were ſummon'd to meet in London at the uſual Time (the latter End of Auguſt) to begin the Winter-ſeaſon, I receiv'd the following ſhort Letter:

Grantham, Auguſt 2.
SIR,

MR. Wetherilt, and his Wife, beg you will excuſe them to Mr. Wilks; their Son is at the Point of Death. They beg an Anſwer. Be pleas'd to direct to your humble Servant

R. Stukely, Apothecary,
in Grantham, Lincolnſhire.

The Meaning why I mention this Letter is, that the Son, the very Night this Letter was wrote, in all Appearance, expir'd, was ſtripp'd and waſh'd, the Bed taken away, and he laid ſtretch'd on a Mat, with a Baſon of Salt (a common Cuſtom in England) placed on his Sto⯑mach, the inconſolable Parents remov'd to an⯑other Houſe, the Coffin brought to the Son's [246] Chamber, and the Windows all open. About Eight at Night a Perſon was ſent with a Light to watch the Corpſe: When ſhe open'd the Door, the firſt Object ſhe perceiv'd was poor Bob (as he was generally call'd by his Fami⯑liars) ſitting up, with his Teeth trembling in his Head (and well they might) with Cold. The Woman, in her Fright, dropp'd the Candle, and ſcream'd out, The Devil! the Devil! This Fright alarm'd another Woman below, who ran up-ſtairs to ſee what was the Matter: In the mean time Bob, with much ado, had made a Shift to get from the Bed; and, tak⯑ing up the Candle, which lay upon the Floor unextinguiſh'd, was creeping to the Door to call for Aſſiſtance, as naked as from the Womb of his Mother; which the two Women per⯑ceiving, with joint Voices repeated again, A Ghoſt! a Ghoſt! the Devil! the Devil! The Maſter of the Houſe, hearing this Uproar, ran himſelf, to know the Reaſon; where poor Bob, the ſuppos'd Devil, and he, ſoon came to a right Underſtanding. He was put into a warm Bed, to the unſpeakable Joy of his deſponding Pa⯑rents, and in ten Days after in London (viva voce) told me the whole Story of his Death.

This Accident, when real Death paid him a Viſit, work'd ſo ſtrongly upon his forlorn Pa⯑rents, that they would not let his Corpſe be coffin'd till five Days after he expir'd. Vain Hope! He died in 1743. in the 35th Year of his Age. Both his Parents died ſoon after him. I am ſorry to end this Account with ſaying, his [247] Company was ſo deſirable, that he had many Tryals of Skill with his Conſtitution. He was buried, in a very genteel Manner, in the Round Churchyard.

In Tryals of Drinking, pray let me aſſure ye,
I never intend to be one of the Jury.

Mr. THOMAS WALKER.

THIS Perſon was born in the Year 1700. In his Youth he was a very promiſing Actor. The Part of Charles in the Nonjuror, a Comedy founded upon Moliere's Tartuff, by Mr. Cibber, which was perform'd at the The⯑atre-Royal in Drury-lane in the Year 1717. gave him the firſt Eſtabliſhment as an Actor. The Applauſe he gain'd from performing the Part of Macheath in the Beggars Opera, was fatal to him: He follow'd Bacchus too ar⯑dently, inſomuch that his Credit was often drown'd upon the Stage, and, by Degrees, al⯑moſt render'd him uſeleſs.

He was the ſuppos'd Author of two dramatic Pieces; viz. The Quakers Opera, and a Tra⯑gedy call'd The Fate of Villainy. This Play he brought to Ireland in the Year 1744. and prevailed on the Proprietors to act it, under the Title of Love and Loyalty. The ſecond Night was given out for his Benefit; but not being able to pay in Half the Charge of the common Expences, the Doors were order'd to be kept [248] ſhut: But, I remember, few People came to aſk the Reaſon. However, I fear this Diſap⯑pointment haſten'd his Death; for he ſurvived it but three Days; dying, in the 44th Year of his Age, a Martyr to what often ſtole from him a good Underſtanding.

He who delights in Drinking out of Seaſon,
Takes wond'rous Pains to drown his manly Reaſon.

Mr. THOMAS WRIGHT.

THIS Gentleman was born in the Year 1707. He is deſcended of a good Fa⯑mily, and had a liberal Education. It is with ſome Concern I ſay he had once a good For⯑tune.

His firſt Appearance as an Actor, in Lon⯑don, was with Mr. Giffard, at the Theatre in Goodman's-Fields, from whence he removed with that Gentleman to Lincoln's-Inn-Fields Theatre; and from thence he was invited to the Theatre-Royal in Drury-lane: But, receiv⯑ing ſome ill Uſage from Mr. Fleetwood, then Patentee, he came over to this Kingdom in the Year 1741. where he appeared to great Advantage in ſeveral capital Characters. He afterwards went out, with a Country Com⯑pany, to ſeveral Parts of this Kingdom, and is now, as I am inform'd, Head of a Company of Players in England. In my Opinion, his De⯑ſervings [249] might make him deſirable in any re⯑gular Theatre; he having a proper Perſon, pleaſing Voice, and being always perfect in what he performs, joined to a good Under⯑ſtanding to feel what he ſpeaks.

But various Cauſes various Minds employ;
Some love to ſave, while others would deſtroy.

Mr. JAMES WORSDALE.

THIS facetious Perſon muſt not be forgot, whoſe Performance, as an Actor and a Poet, has often diverted the Town. He was taught the Uſe of the Pencil under that cele⯑brated Painter Sir Godfrey Kneller. I do not pretend to reſcue him from the Laſh of a Lady who has thought fit to correct him; but this I know, that I have been in his Company, when his quick Imagination has ſtruck out ſeveral Pieces of Humour that have given great Plea⯑ſure, in his Manner of Singing. To give one Inſtance of it: He and I were together, with⯑out any other Company; when, on the Back of a Play-bill, he ſtruck out the following Song, for his little Opera call'd A Cure for a Scold.

WHoe'er to a Wife
Is link'd for his Life,
Is plac'd in a wretched Condition;
Tho' plagu'd with her Tricks,
Like a Bliſter ſhe ſticks,
[250] And Death is his only Phyſician, Poor Man,
And Death, &c.
So the Cur who poſſeſt
A Bone of the beſt,
Could lick it, or leave it, at Pleaſure;
But if to his Tail
'Tis ty'd, without fail
He's haraſs'd and plagu'd, without Meaſure, Poor Cur,
He's haraſs'd, &c.

Now what convinces me of the quick Coin⯑age of this Song is, that the laſt Stanza was produced by the Accident of ſeeing a Dog run, at that Inſtant, by the Window, with a Bone ty'd to his Tail, follow'd by a hooting Mob.

This may certainly be ſaid of him, that he had an inexhauſtible Fund of Good-humour, Good-nature, and Generoſity; and might have had a heavier Purſe, if he had not been ſo light of Heart. I ſhall end with two Lines of his own, with very little Variation.

May be ever from Duns and from Bailiffs be freed,
And ſhake a looſe Leg on each Side of the Tweed.

Mr. JOHN WATSON,

[251]

IS a Perſon worthy of Imitation, from his Oeconomy and Behaviour in private Life. He belonged to the Stage from his Youth, firſt as a Prompter, but many Years as an Actor: If he does not excel, he is ever decent. His long Continuance in the Buſineſs has made him perfect almoſt in every Character, and ſuch a Perſon muſt be extremely uſeful in a Theatre.

He beſt can guide a Stranger in the Road,
Who oft the mazy Labyrinth has trod.

Mr. JAMES WILLIAMS,

MUST not be forgot, ſince what he does, he does well; and, in my Judgment, were he put forward in ſome Parts in Low Comedy, his Execution would not loſe him any Reputation. In one Ingredient to make up a Play, I think him the beſt I have ever known; that is, a Property-man s.

[252]
His bloodleſs Weapons only kill in Jeſt;
And thoſe that drink his Poiſons, fare the beſt.

Mrs. WOFFINGTON.

THIS amiable Actreſs was born in Dublin of reputable Parents, who gave her a genteel Education. Her ſprightly Genius led her early to the Stage, where ſhe made a rapid Progreſs: Her firſt Eſtabliſhment was in the Character of Sir Harry Wildair in this King⯑dom, which was the firſt Part ſhe perform'd in Covent-garden Theatre, and had a ſucceſſive Progreſs of upwards of twenty Nights, with univerſal Applauſe. The Manager of that Theatre having ſome Diſpute with her re⯑lating to Salary (as I am inform'd), ſhe engag'd with the Manager of Drury-lane, where ſhe has reign'd in full Perfection, unrival'd in the Parts ſhe undertakes; till her late Re-eſtabliſh⯑ment at Covent-garden.

As Merit too often creates Envy, the little World the Theatre is not free from it. This agreeable Actreſs, in the Part of Sir Harry, coming into the Green-Room, ſaid, pleaſantly, In my Conſcience! I believe Half the Men in the Houſe take me for one of their own Sex. An⯑other Actreſs reply'd, It may be ſo; but, in my Conſcience! the other Half can convince them to the contrary. As the Theatre is the Teſt of other Peoples. Wit, why may they not find a little among themſelves?

[253] I am informed, ſhe now ſhines in ſeveral ca⯑pital Parts in Tragedy; viz. Cleopatra in All for Love, Jane Shore, Monimia, Caliſta in the Fair Penitent, &c. t.

[254] I ſhall leave this Lady to proceed in her Path of Merit where ſhe ſtill leads, with an Epi⯑logue wrote purely for her Manner of Speaking: And as Prologues and Epilogues are the moſt difficult Taſks of both Sexes on the Stage, it is to be remark'd, but few, beſides the capital Performers, are truſted with them; and a good Prologue and Epilogue have often help'd a bad Play out of the Mire, or, at leaſt, ſent the Audience home a little better humour'd.

EPILOGUE,
Deſign'd for Mrs. WOFFINGTON in the Character of a Volunteer.
Enters, reading the Gazette.
CURSE on all Cowards! ſay I—why—bleſs my Eyes—
No—no—it can't be true—this Gazette lyes—
Our Men retreat before a ſcrub Banditi,
Who ſcarce could fright the Buff-coats of the City!
Well—if 'tis ſo, and that our Men won't ſtand,
'Tis time we Women take the Thing in Hand—
[255] Thus, in my Country's Cauſe, I now appear
A bold, ſmart Khevenhuller Volunteer—
And really, mark ſome Heroes in the Nation,
You'll think this no unnat'ral Transformation:
For if in Valour real Manhood lies,
All Cowards are but—Women in Diſguiſe—
They cry, Theſe Rebels are ſo ſtout and tall!
Ah! Lard! I'd lower the proudeſt of 'em all:
Try but my Courage, place me in the Van,
And, poſt me, if I don't bring down my Man—
Had we an Army of ſuch charging Wenches,
What Man, d'ye think, would dare t' attack our Trenches?
O! how the Cannon of our Eyes would maul 'em,
But our mask'd Batt'ries—Lud! how they would gall 'em!
No Rebel 'gainſt ſuch Force durſt take the Field—
For, damme! we wou'd die before we'd yield!
Joking aparr, we Women have ſtrong Reaſon
To ſtop the Progreſs of this Popiſh Treaſon:
For now, when Female Liberty's at ſtake,
All Women ought to buſtle for its Sake.
Should theſe audacious Sons of Rome prevail,
Vows, Convents, and that Heathen Thing, a Veil,
Muſt come in Faſhion; and ſuch Inſtitutions
Would ſuit but oddly with our Conſtitutions.
What gay Coquet would like a Nun's Profeſſion?
And I've ſome private Reaſons 'gainſt Con⯑feſſion.
Beſides, our good Men of the Church, they ſay
(Who now; thank Heav'n, may love, as well as pray),
[256] Muſt then be only wed to cloyſter'd Houſes—
Hold! there we're fobb'd of twenty thouſand Spouſes;
And, faith, no bad ones, as I'm told—Then judge ye,
Is't fit we loſe our—Benefit of Clergy?
In Freedom's Cauſe, ye Patriot Fair, ariſe;
Exert the ſacred Influence of your Eyes:
On valiant Merit deign alone to ſmile,
And vindicate the Glory of our Iſle.
To no baſe Cowards render up your Charms;
Disband the Lover who deſerts his Arms:
So ſhall you fire each Hero to his Duty,
And Britiſh Rights be fix'd by Britiſh Beauty.
FINIS.
Notes
a
Every Perſon may not know that Marcus Tullius Cicero and Roſcius lived in the ſame Cen⯑tury, and were Cotemporaries, though the Orator was much the younger, and was taught all that Energy in his Orations he was ſo much famed for, by Roſcius. Tully ſurvived him many Years. He derived his Line from Tullius Appius King of the Volſci, and took his Name from Cicer, a Chich-pea (or as we call them in England, Vech), by having a Wart on his Forehead which reſembled that Pulſe. Theſe great Men (Cicero and Roſcius) flouriſhed about the Year of the World 3880, 60 Years before the Birth of Chriſt.
a
Theſpis, an early Poet and Player, born at Athens.
b
Aeſchylus, a celebrated Greek Poet, an Athenian. There are ſeveral Greek Tragedies of his handed down to us, and, as Caſaubon imagines, many more loſt. By ſome Authors he is ſuppos'd to have been one of the Per⯑formers in his own Dramatic Pieces The learned Tho⯑mas Stanley, Eſq of Hertfordſhire, has publiſh'd this an⯑tient Author in Latin, with the original Greek on one Side, illuſtrated with elaborate Notes, in Folio.
c
Hiſtriones, or Actors, took their Name from Hiſter, in the Tuſcan Language, a Player.
d
Turres Mobiles, or moving Towers of the Greeks, are the ſame of thoſe of the Romans, which they copied from them. They are uſed in beſieging the Walls of a City, generally 150 Foot high, and 30 Foot ſquare, containing many Rooms in Length, and Height, capable of holding a large Body of Soldiers, with Arms and other Engines, Ladders, Bridges to throw over the City-wall for the Sol⯑diers to enter the Town; and all this mighty Bulk put together in three Hours, as Gronovius tells us, with Wheels that could move it forward or back by Men, to ſhove, or draw, to preſs on, or retreat; ſome of the Sto⯑ries fill'd with Archers and Slingers, another with Fire⯑balls, the reſt with Spears and Darts, &c.
e
The learned Seneca was born at Cordova in Spain. This is not the Stoic Philoſopher, whom, by his moral Writings, Hierome ranks among the Liſt of ſacred Authors; tho' both theſe great Men were born in Cor⯑dova.
f
Plautus was born in Umbria, in the Kingdom of Naples. Notwithſtanding his Reputation as a Comic Poet, thro' his extravagant Way of Living, he was, at laſt, reduced to get his Subſiſtence by turning a Baker's Hand⯑mill: A Memento for Poets, as well as Players.
g
Terence was born at Carthage, the Capital of Africa, that ſo long contended with the Roman Republic. He ſerv'd Terentius Lucanus, a Roman Knight, who recom⯑mended him to Scipio and Laelius. There are Six of his Comedies left us, but moſt taken from the Greek of Me⯑nander, which makes the learned World regret the Loſs of that excellent Author. Terence, after his great Suc⯑ceſs in Rome, embark'd to viſit Athens, but was ſuppos'd to periſh at Sea; for he was never after heard of.
h
Menander, a celebrated Greek Comic Poet. Suidas informs us, that he ſquinted, and was an inordinate Lover of the Fair Sex Plautus and Terence borrow'd as much from this Author, as our modern Play-wrights from Corneille, Racine, Moliere, Renard, and many of the French Tribe of Parnaſſus. But whom has our Immortal Shakeſpear pilfer'd from? Why, not having the Fear of Heaven before his Eyes, he has ſacrilegiouſly ſtolen from that ſacred Goddeſs, Nature, in all her Works.
i
Sophocles was a celebrated Tragic Poet of Athens. He flouriſhed in the Year of the World 3520. before the Birth of Chriſt 428.
k
Euripides wrote 75 Dramatic Pieces. Altho' he was twice married, he was accounted a Woman-hater. Various are the Accounts of his Death: Some ſay, he was torn to Pieces by Women; others, by the King of Macedon's Dogs. He was contemporary with Sophocles.
l
Ariſtophanes was born at Lindus, in the Iſland of Rhodes. He wrote 14 Comedies. He was cotemporary with Socrates, and in one of his Plays ridicules that great Philoſopher. He flouriſhed in the Year of the World 3527.
m
Lycophron, an eminent Tragic Poet, born at Chal⯑cedon, a City of Bithynia in Aſia Minor, and now call'd Chiutale by the Turks, in whoſe Government it now re⯑mains.
n

Athens was built by Cecrops (as Helvicus informs us), a King of Egypt, in the Year of the World 2390. 64 Years before the Iſraelites went out of Egypt. It was obey'd by Kings, till 2812. of the World, when the Line of Monarchs ended with Codrus. Archons then were conſtituted in the Place of Regal Power, after the Reign of 31 Kings; the Hero Theſeus being the 11th of that Number, who nam'd the City Athens. Theſe Archons, or joint Rulers, were nine in Number, and were generally Hereditary. Solon, the wiſe Lawgiver, was an Athenian, and form'd thoſe wholſome Statutes from which they deriv'd their excellent Government. See the Engliſh of the Greek of what he ſaid of himſelf.

What Pow'r was fit, I did on all beſtow;
Nor rais'd the Poor too high, nor preſs'd too low:
The Rich, that rul'd, and ev'ry Office bore,
Confin'd by Laws, they could not preſs the Poor.
Both Parties I ſecur'd from lawleſs Might:
So, none prevailed upon another's Right.

Have we better Laws now? Theſe Archons for Life continued Governors till 3190. They were then chang⯑ed for ten Years Rule only, till 3268. then it formed a direct Republic, and, as Alcibiades ſays in the Play of Timon of Athens,

One Tyrant is better than four Hundred!

Their home-bred Jars made them a Prey to the Ma⯑cedonians, and afterwards to the Romans. And tho' fa⯑mous for War and Arms, yet Learning and Art, even in their Troubles, rais'd them to be the firſt in the Eſteem, tho' they wore the Chains of Rome; which ſhall introduce the Words of the Oracle to the great Theſeus:

Hear, Theſeus, Pitheus Daughter's Son,
Hear what Jove for thee has done.
In this great City thou haſt made,
He has, as in a Store-houſe, laid
The ſettled Periods and fix'd Fates
Of many Cities, mighty States.
But know thou neither Fear nor Pain;
Solicit not thyſelf in vain:
For, like a Bladder that does bide
The Fury of the angry Tide,
Thou from high Waves unhurt ſhalt bound,
Always toſs'd, but never drown'd. DUKE.

Athens is now call'd Atheni by the Turks. There are computed 7000 Chriſtians, and 2000 Turks, who com⯑mand the Town. The Aga reſides in the Acropolis, or Caſtle, built upon a Rock, a Mile in Circumference; within it is a Moſque, that, when Athens flouriſh'd, was the Temple of Minerva, built of white Marble, 217 Foot in Length, and 100 in Breadth; and (as Wheeler ſays) was one of the fineſt Structures in the World. Near it are ſome of the Remains of the Theatre of Bacchus. The Area, and the Stage, are almoſt fill'd with the rui⯑nous Marble Seats. But it is plain to be diſcover'd, that this Theatre is much larger than the Temple of Minerva, and built with white Marble. The Temple of the eight Winds, ſome Remains of the Odeum, or Muſic Theatre, &c. may be ſtill diſtinguiſh'd.

a

Acoſta, the Spaniard, that wrote the Hiſtory of the Weſt-Indies before Cortez had conquer'd it, ſays, the Amantas, or Indian Philoſophers, were alſo Poets, and invented Comedies and Tragedies, which were acted on their Feſtivals before the King, the Royal Family, and the Court; the Actors being the Noblemen and great Officers of the Army. The Subject of their Tragedies were the Victories and great Actions of their Anceſtors, which ſeem'd to be the beſt Means they had of preſerv⯑ing the Memory of what was paſt. In their Comedies, their Huſbandry, their Houſhold Affairs and Commerce were repreſented, and the moſt remarkable Follies in Life expos'd. The Poets taught them what they had to ſay, not by Writing, but by Memory; for Orthogra⯑phy was not known among the Indians till after the Conqueſt.

According to Lopez de Vega, the Chriſtian Religion was propagated among the Americans by the Theatre. Read in his own Words what he writes upon the Sub⯑ject: ‘Every Part of Goſpel-hiſtory is thrown into a Play, and the Indians are the Actors (inſtructed by the Jeſuits); one acts our Saviour, another St. Pe⯑ter, a third Pontius Pilate, a fourth Judas, and ſo on. This they look upon as the readieſt Way of inſtruct⯑ing the vulgar Indians in the Chriſtian Religion, and to fix the Sacred Hiſtory of it in their Memories.’

p
This College was firſt deſigned for the Relief and Support of ſix Men, ſix Women, with ſix Children, Perſons thro' Indigence, Misfortunes, or old Age, be⯑longing to the Theatres of London. But, when the Building was going forward, Mr. Allen having left off acting, he recommended a Door-keeper to his quondam Brother Actors; they abſolutely refuſed him that ſmall Favour, which ſo enraged him, that he turned his Bounty another Way. Both Parties, perhaps, to blame; but, I believe, few cenſured him out of the Theatres at that Time. He afterwards increaſed the Number of Children to twelve, from the Age of five Years, to be taught and maintained till 14 or 15. We may imagine the Founder no very great Friend to Matrimony, ſince he left Directions, that the Governor ſhould continue a Batchelor, and one of his own Name; and to give place to another Allen, ſhould he once change his Condition. The College is a noble Building, with a very handſome Chapel, the Altar-piece elegantly painted, with a well-ton'd Organ; and it is the Duty of the Organiſt to teach the Children to ſing the proper Services of the Church. The decent Decorum is admired by all. There is alſo an elegant Pleaſure-Garden, with a uſeful Orchard and Kitchen-Garden, all well-ſtock'd with the beſt Fruits, &c. Fiſh-ponds, that yield large Quantities of Carp, Tench, Perch, and Eels. And, much to the Credit of the Managers of this Charity, the original Eſtate left by the Founder is more than trebled in Va⯑lue, and they have Money in their Treaſury ready for another Purchaſe. I ſhall end this Account with what Sir Richard Baker writes in his Chronicle of England where he cloſes the Reign of King James the Firſt: ‘About this Time (1624.) Edward Allen, of Dulwich in Surry, founded a fair Hoſpital at Dulwich, for ſix poor Men, ſix poor Women, and twelve poor Chil⯑dren from the Age of four to ſix Years, to be there maintained and taught till the Age of Fourteen or Sixteen, and to have a Schoolmaſter, with Diet, and a convenient Stipend. This Man may be an Exam⯑ple, who, having gotten his Wealth by Stage-play⯑ing, converted it to this pious Uſe; not without a kind of Reputation to the Society of Stage-Players.’
q
Sir William Davenant was, by many, ſuppoſed the natural Son of Shakeſpear. He ſucceeded Ben Johnſon as Poet-Laureat in 1637. and obtained a Patent for a Company of Comedians from King Charles, and was knighted by that Monarch. He was accounted a great Poet, in ſeveral Branches of that Science: His Poem of Gondibert is eſteemed a noble Poem, which he wrote in France during his Exile with King Charles the Second. His Works are printed in Folio 1673, which contains 17 Dramatic Pieces, beſides his Poems, with his Head crowned with Laurel. The Features ſeem to reſemble the open Countenance of Shakeſpear, but the want of a Noſe gives an odd Caſt to the Face. I ſhall not inquire how he came Noſeleſs, yet give you a ſtale Jeſt upon the Occaſion. Sir William walking by Temple-Bar, a Fiſhmonger's Boy, in watering his Fiſh upon the Stall, beſprinkled the Laureat; who, ſnuffling, loudly com⯑plained of the Abuſe. The Maſter begged the Knight's Pardon, and was for chaſtiſing his Servant with ſome Expoſtulations, as well as a Cudgel. Zounds, Sir, cry'd the Boy, it's very hard I muſt be corrected for my Clean⯑lineſs; the Gentleman blew his Noſe upon my Fiſh, and I was waſhing it off, that's all. The Jeſt pleaſed Sir Wil⯑liam ſo well, that he gave him a Piece of Money, and went away highly delighted. Since I have given you one old Jeſt upon the Noſe of Sir William, I'll venture to throw in another. As he was walking along the Mews, an importunate Beggar-woman teiz'd him for Charity, with often repeating, Heaven bleſs your Eye-ſight! God preſerve your Worſhip's Eye ſight—Why, what's the Mat⯑ter with my Eye-ſight, Woman? reply'd Sir William, I find no Defect there. Ah! good Sir, I wiſh you never may, return'd the Beggar; for ſhould your Sight ever fail you, you muſt borrow a Noſe of your Neighbour to hang your Spectacles on. His Play of the Law againſt Lovers is Shakeſpear's Meaſure for Meaſure, with a very little Alteration, and as little for the better. Sir William was the Contriver of painted Scenes in our Engliſh Theatres, as well as one of the firſt Introducers of ſinging Operas. There is a Work of this Kind, whoſe Title runs thus: ‘The Cruelty of the Spaniards in Peru, expreſſed by Inſtrumental and Vocal Muſic, and by Art of Per⯑ſpective in Scenes, at the Cock-Pit in Drury-Lane, at three in the Afternoon, 1658.’
r
It is the Cuſtom of the Muſcovites at Chriſtmas, Eaſter, and many other ſtated Feſtivals, to ſend, as a friendly Preſent to their Acquaintance and Relations, painted Eggs, generally embelliſh'd with Flowers curi⯑ouſly drawn, Fruits, &c. that are very often ſo expen⯑ſive, that the Money laid out for the painting of one would purchaſe a hundred, as ſimple Nature produc'd them, and are of no farther Uſe than to be look'd upon. This Cuſtom is kept up chiefly in the Holidays of Chriſt⯑mas, in Commemoration of the Eaſtern wiſe Men, led by the Star to viſit our Redeemer in the Manger at Beth⯑lehem, where they made their Preſents to the Divine In⯑fant. Theſe Eggs are ſometimes eaten in thoſe Days ordained, where Fleſh is ſorbidden, but not till the Sun is ſet, or, if no Sun appears, not till Candle-light.
s
The Country Diſtempers are, the Dry-gripes, and Teneſmus, which generally ends in a Sanguinary Flux: Moſt New-comers, for want of a proper Regimen, fall into it. The Dry-gripes brings a final Diſſolution in two Days, if no Remedy keeps it back. The other Diſ⯑temper, indeed, is ſlower in its Execution and Cure. Sir Hans Sloane tells us, the Badneſs of the Water contri⯑buted to all theſe Diſtempers, which is brackiſh near the Sea-coaſts: But ſwallowing large Draughts of Rum Punch, with the fatal Dew that falls in the Night, when the Body is careleſly expoſed, heated with drinking, is the chief Cauſe. Place any woollen Garment expos'd to the noxious Vapours of the Night, and it will imbibe double its Weight of Dew before Sun-riſe. Thoſe that eſcape the Seaſoning, as they term it, ſeldom feel the fatal Ef⯑fects of it afterwards. This is more dangerous on the Sea-coaſts of the Iſland; the mid Parts are much more ſalubrious, both as to Air and Water.
a
Moliere, the great Comic Poet of France, was eſ⯑teem'd an excellent Actor. He died in performing the Part of the Hypochondriac in a Comedy of his own Write⯑ing, call'd Le Malade Imaginaire, which is Part of a Comedy in Engliſh call'd the Mother-in-law) on the 17th of February, 1679, in his grand Climacteric. The Archbiſhop of Paris would not allow his Body to be in⯑hum'd in conſecrated Ground, which the King being informed of, ſent for the Archbiſhop, and expoſtulated with him; but he was an obſtinate Churchman, and would not willingly condeſcend to his Majeſty's Perſua⯑ſions. The King, finding him unwilling to comply, de⯑ſired to know how many Feet deep the Holy Ground reach'd? The Biſhop reply'd, About eight. Well, re⯑ply'd the King, I find there is no getting the better of your Scruples; therefore let his Grave be dug twelve Feet, that's four below your conſecrated Ground, and let them bury him there. The Archbiſhop was obliged to comply; for Lewis the XIVth would be obey'd. Moliere left be⯑hind him thirty-two Dramatic Pieces, which are held by the French in the higheſt Eſteem. A French Gentle⯑man, in giving me his Opinion of this excellent Author, told me Moliere compos'd 37 Pieces for the Stage; and tho' he had left the World twice that Number of Years, all the Dramatic Writers of the French Nation had not produced twice as many Comedies equal to his. Moſt of his Come⯑dies have given a Foundation to our Engliſh Dramatic Writers; but none have met with more Succeſs than the Miſer, and the Mock-Doctor, by Mr. Fielding.
a
This noted Author, about twenty Years paſt, re⯑ſided in London. His Acquaintance with the Laureat brought him frequently to the Theatre, where (he con⯑feſs'd) he improved in the Engliſh Orthography more in a Week, than he ſhould otherwiſe have done by labour'd Study in a Month. I furniſh'd him every Evening with the Play of the Night, which he took with him into the Orcheſtre (his accuſtomed Seat): In four or five Months, he not only convers'd in elegant Engliſh, but wrote it with exact Propriety. In time, he wore off the Preju⯑dice he firſt conceiv'd at the Cataſtrophe of our Engliſh Tragedy, the Cuſtom of killing upon the Stage never having been introduced on the French Theatre, till the Zara of this Author, which he plann'd from Shakeſpear's Othello. The laſt Speech of Oſmin the Emperor (after he has ſtab'd Zara) which he ends by killing himſelf, is to the ſame Purpoſe with Othello's, and the ſame Senti⯑ments. His Attempt anſwer'd his Wiſh, for Zaire in Paris had above fifty ſucceſſive crowded Audiences. The French open'd their Senſes to the true Fire of our Engliſh Drama, where they diſcover'd the Spirit of Liberty, and, for the firſt time, ſhew'd that Monarchs had no Right from Heaven to enſlave their Subjects, and that God-like Liberty was a Gift from Power Almighty. The Freedom of his Pen gave Diſguſt to People in Power, and their Reſentment occaſioned his Baniſhment from Paris. Shortly after, he made himſelf a voluntary Exile, where his Wit gains him many Admirers, and his good Senſe and Wiſdom links them in the Lands of Friendſhip.
a

The Iriſh Hiſtory informs us, that Prince Gadelus (I think of the Mileſian Race) in his Travels viſited Pharaoh King of Egypt, fell in Love with Scota the King's Daughter, and married her. This Gadelus or Gadel (for the Royal Records of Tarah call him by both Names, as I am informed) in Egypt was ſtung by a Serpent as he lay aſleep, and was healed by the Pro⯑phet Moſes. The Iriſh is thus elegantly tranſlated by a native Bard.

The hiſſing Serpent, eager for his Prey,
Aſcends the Couch where ſleeping Gadel lay:
In winding Mazes there himſelf he roll'd,
And leap'd upon him with a dreadful Fold,
And ſheek his forked Tongue, and then around
His Neck he twiſts, and gave a deadly Wound.
The ſubtle Poiſon ſpreads thro' ev'ry Vein;
No Art, no Juice of Herbs, can eaſe the Pain;
Till Moſes, with his never-failing Wand,
Touch'd the raw Wound, which heal'd at his Command.

When Gadelus, with his Wife Scota (from this Princeſs Ireland was firſt call'd Scota) and his Followers, were leaving Egypt to ſettle ſome new Colony, the following Prophecy was declar'd by Moſes, tranſlated by the ſame elegant Hand.

The Holy Prophet was inſpir'd, to ſee
Into Events of dark Futurity:
And ſaid, For thee, young Prince, has Heav'n in ſtore
Bleſſings, that Mortals ne'er enjoy'd before:
For whereſoe'er the Royal Line ſhall come,
Fruitful ſhall be their Land, and ſafe their Home;
No poiſonous Snake or Serpent ſhall deface
The Beauty of thy Fields, or taint thy Graſs;
No noiſome Reptile, with invenom'd Teeth,
Shall ever ſwell that Land, or be the Cauſe of Death:
But Innocence and Arts ſhall flouriſh there,
And Learning in its lovely Shapes appear;
The Poets there ſhall in their Songs proclaim
Thy glorious Acts, and never-dying Name.

Our Engliſh Hiſtorians mention the Bards of antient Britain, but we cannot find any of their Productions ex⯑tant; when we are aſſured there are many Iriſh Hiſto⯑rians and Poets ſtill to be found in Ireland, as well as England (more eſpecially in the Library of the Duke of Chandos) preſerved even from the Depredations of the Danes, Deſtroyers that were utter Enemies to Sci⯑ence and Learning.

a
The Play of Gorboduc was written by the Right Honourable Thomas Sackville Lord Buckhurſt, after⯑wards created Earl of Dorſet in the firſt Year of King James the Firſt's Reign. This Dramatic Piece was ac⯑counted the beſt of its Kind at the Time it was wrote; it was firſt publiſhed under the Title of Ferrex and Porrex in 1582. and 1590. reprinted under the Title of Gorbo⯑duc. This was a favourite Play of Queen Elizabeth's, as may be ſuppoſed by her ſeeing it twice acted; firſt, by the Gentlemen of the Inner-Temple, and afterwards by the Children of her Majeſty's Revels. Mr. Spence, Pro⯑feſſor of Poetry in the Univerſity of Oxford, has reprint⯑ed this Play about nine Years ago, and dedicated it to the Earl of Middleſex, Son to his Grace the Duke of Dorſet, deſcended from this Author.
a
Henry Burnel, Eſq a Gentleman of Ireland, wrote a Play call'd Landgartha, a Tragi-Comedy, acted at the New Theatre in Dublin, 1641. with very great Applauſe (ſo ſays the Title); but there are no Actors Names print⯑ed in the Drama. The Prologue was ſpoken by an Ama⯑zon, arm'd with a Battle-ax, to beſpeak the Favour of the Audience. The Plot is taken from the Daniſh Hiſtory of Saxo Grammaticus. This Play was the laſt that was performed on the Theatre in Warberg-ſtreet before the Rebellion broke out, which was diſcovered by Mr. Owen O Connolly but the Night before the Execution, which prevented the City of Dublin being ſeiz'd on the 22d of October 1641. as intended; but it was too late to give Notice to the reſt of the Kingdom, which felt the fatal Effect of the Rebellion.
a
Mr. Daugharty was found dead, ſuppos'd by ſome by a Fall down the Stairs of a Cellar; while others ima⯑gine he was murder'd by a Watchman with his Watch-Bill, by a Cut in his Skull; but the Murderer was never found out.
b
Mrs. Haywoo has made herſelf eminent to the polite World by her Writings; ſhe is ſtill alive. Her numerous Novels will be ever eſteem'd by Lovers of that Sort of Amuſement. She is likewiſe Authoreſs of three Dramatic Pieces. 1ſt, The Fair Captive, a Tra⯑gedy. 2d, Wife to be Let, a Comedy. Mrs. Haywood perform'd the capital Part in this Play. 3d, Frederic Duke of Brunſwick, a Tragedy. She alſo join'd with Mr. Hatchet, in making Songs to Mr. Fielding's Tom Thumb, which were compos'd by the ingenious Mr. Frederic Lampe, and perform'd often with the Title of the Opera of Operas. As the Pen is her chief Means of Subſiſtence, the World may find many Books of her Writing, tho' none have met with more Succeſs than her Novels, more particularly her Love in Exceſs, &c. Her Dramatic Works have all died in their firſt viſiting the World, being exhibited in very ſickly Seaſons for Poetry. Mr. Pope has taken her for his Goddeſs of Dulaeſs in his Dunciad; but ſhe need not bluſh in ſuch good Company.
c
Miſs Schoolding was marry'd to Monſieur Moreau, a celebrated Stage-Dancer in this Kingdom.
a
Mr. Quin was then a Youth.
b
Mrs. Fitzgerald, whoſe Maiden Name was Swan, generally play'd the Part of a young Man.
c
Mrs. Martin was the original Mrs. Peachum, and Diana Trapes, in the Beggar's Opera.
a
Mr. Figg informed me once, that he had not bought a Shirt for more than twenty Years, but had ſold ſome Dozens. It was his Method, when he fought in his Amphitheatre (his Stage bearing that ſuperb Title); he ſent round to a ſelect Number of his Scholars to bor⯑row a Shirt for the enſuing Combat, and ſeldom failed of half a dozen of ſuperfine Holland from his prime Pupils (moſt of the young Nobility and Gentry made it Part of their Education to march under his warlike Banner). This Champion was generally Conqueror, tho' his Shirt ſeldom failed of gaining a Cut from his Enemy, and ſometimes his Fleſh, tho' I think he never receiv'd any dangerous Wound. Moſt of his Scholars were at every Battle, and were ſure to exult at their great Maſter's Victories, every Perſon ſuppoſing he ſaw the Wounds his Shirt received. Mr. Figg took his Opportunity to inform his Lenders of Linen, of the Chaſms their Shirts received, with a Promiſe to ſend them home. But, ſaid the ingenious, courageous Figg, I ſeldom received any other Anſwer, than, Damn you, keep it. I ſhall not enter into the Merits of this Method in pro⯑curing Linen; but, if it was a Fraud (as he told me), he was never found Guilty. For, as Hudibras ſays,
For thoſe that meddle with his Tools,
Will cut their Fingers, if they're Fools.
h
It is now an Hoſpital for indigent Lying-in Women, which is a generous, virtuous, and humane Charity, worthy the Imitation of every civilized Nation. The Director and Inventor of this uſeful Inſtitution ought to be mentioned with great Reſpect. How many Subjects have been loſt, for want of ſuch a noble Charity! The Hoſpital was opened in March 1745. and, by the Firſt of November 1747. there were 514 poor Women ſafely de⯑livered of 281 Boys, and 241 Girls; 13 Women bearing Twins; the eminent Dr. Moſſe (the firſt Promoter of this charitable Work) giving Attendance without Fee or Reward. I wiſh Iberia's Elder Siſter would follow the Example. 'Tis true, there are ſuch in China, but not under ſuch Regulation; the Women there are not receiv'd, till the Pangs of Child-birth attack them, ac⯑cording to Mendez Pinto; and ſeveral Mothers, with their Infants, periſh, before they can be conveyed to the Ho⯑ſpital. In Paris there is one of this Kind; but the Wo⯑men after the Month, if able, are obliged to attend thoſe that lie in, and cannot be free of the Place till their Turn comes on, which muſt be one Month, at leaſt: For, as I am informed, they are Nurſes to each other. Rome, that has Hoſpitals almoſt without Number, has none ſuch, tho' they have one for repenting Courtezans. Altho' the Hoſpitals, in Amſterdam, maintain 20,000 Souls, of both Sexes; yet I cannot find one that is ap⯑propriated to this Uſe.
i
The Lady Iſabella was born in Italy, ſprung from a noble Family in the City of Florence: She was put into a Nunnery at twelve Years of Age, in order to take the Veil; but a Poſture-maſter unluckily came to that City, gained her Affections, and found Means to carry her off, and marry'd her; inſtructed her in his unſeemly, dangerous Employment (if we may call it ſo), and brought her to England; where Lady Iſabella was greatly admir'd, for her Poſtures, and Feats of Activity. The laſt, and fatal, Time of her Performance, ſhe was eight Months gone with Child; but the covetous Huſband loved Money ſo well (as it is reported), that he would not allow her the neceſſary Repoſe required in her Con⯑dition; ſo that, in one of her Dances on a ſlack Rope, ſhe fell on the Stage, where the Mother and Infant, newly born with the Force of the Fall, expired in a Moment, fatal Cataſtrophe! in the Twenty-firſt Year of her Age. This was the running Account of the poor Lady Iſabella, after her Death, whoſe End was much lamented: For, notwithſtanding her diſreputable Employ⯑ment, ſhe was eſteemed as a Woman of ſtrict Virtue.
k
I ſaw a Licence, granted by that worthy Nobleman to the late Mr. Thomas Walker, Comedian, for Forty Pounds per Annum; which Sum was meant to be given to the Poor in the Earl of Meath's Liberty: A pious Example!
l
Since dead.
m
Since dead.
n
Now in England.
o
Dead.
p
Dead.
q
Now Mrs. Mitchel.
r
Now Mrs. Martin.
s
Lives at Corke.
t
This Play was for Miſs Mackay's Benefit.
u
Old Smock-alley was then in a ruinous Condition.
w
Aungier-ſtrect was afterwards built for the Company in Smock-alley.
x
Since dead.
y
Now in his Majeſty's Navy.
z
Died in England.
a
The proper Name is Orange-ſtreet; but it took the Appellation of Smock-alley from Mother Bungy, of infa⯑mous Memory, and was, in her Days, a Sink of Sin; but a Man being found murder'd in theſe bottomleſs Pits of Wickedneſs, the Sheds were pulled down by the Popu⯑lace, the unclean Vermin were baniſh'd, the Place purged of its Infamy; handſome Dwellings now ſhew their Faces in a modeſt Garb, and entertain modeſt and repu⯑table Inhabitants; and therefore, I think, ought to loſe its old ſtain'd Name. But if Tyburn were removed, the Spot would be call'd Tyburn ſtill.
b
Now Martin.
c

A Spaniſh Biſhop writes thus of the Conqueſt of America: ‘The firſt Conquerors of this large new World gave out, that there were mighty Giants and warlike Amazons, all of them a Race of Cannibals that fed upon human Fleſh, making War on each other for that Purpoſe: But theſe Reports were ſpread to cover the Inhumanity of the Spaniards, who put to Death, with extreme Tortures, above Six Millions of innocent, naked, harmleſs Indians; pretending it was in the Service of Heaven to rob, ſtarve, and mur⯑der the Image of their Creator; when it has been proved, their own Avarice was the Motive, when Mil⯑lions were put to Death a thouſand Ways, becauſe they could not, or would not, diſcover their hidden Wealth.’

Thus it too often falls out among ourſelves; when a poor Wretch is half-laden with Injuries, they make up the other Half-burden with Falſhoods, and very hu⯑manly throw on a Weight that intirely ſinks him.

d
I have mentioned this Author, in another Part of the Work, as an Exile; but have learn'd ſince, that his Ba⯑niſhment is repealed, and he is made Hiſtoriographer to the French King.
a
The School of Eton was founded by that unfor⯑tunate King Henry the Sixth, eminent to a Degree for producing Men of great Learning. 'Tis ſeated on the delightful River of Thomas in Buckinghamſhire, over-againſt Windſor in Berkſhire; it is called Eton-College. The Chapel is a handſome Gothic Pile, with an Organ and Choir. This Place is ranked as the firſt Free-School in the King's Dominions. It ſeems by Art and Nature form'd for Study; its ſhady Walks public or private, large Gardens, Orchards, Groves, and the limpid River, are natural Calls for Learning.
a
The firſt Part of this Account I gathered from Mr. Joſeph Aſhbury s own Mouth when I was a young Man under his Directions in this Kingdom, about four Years before his Death, when he liv'd at the Bowling-Green-Houſe, Oxmantown, ſince built upon; then, I believe, the fineſt Spot of its Kind in the whole Univerſe.
b
I was favoured with this Letter by Mr. Richard Aſhbury the Son.
1.
The Compoſition for blackening the Face are Ivory⯑black and Pomatum, which is, with ſome Pains, clean'd with freſh Butter.
m
This Gentleman, Mr. Smith, was zealouſly at⯑tach'd to the Intereſt of King James the Second, and ſerved in his Army as a Volunteer, with Two Servants. After the Abdication, Mr. Smith return'd to the Thea⯑tre, by the Perſuaſion of many Friends, and the Deſire of the Town, who admired his Performance. The firſt Character he choſe to appear in was that of Wilmore in the Rover, his original Part in that Comedy; but, being informed that he ſhould be maltreated on account of his Principles, he gave Orders for the Curtain to drop, if any Diſturbance ſhould come from the Audience. Ac⯑cordingly the Play began in the utmoſt Tranquillity; but when Mr. Smith entered in the Firſt Act, the Storm began with the uſual Noiſe upon ſuch Occaſions (an Up⯑roar not unknown to all Frequenters of Theatres, and by Time mightily improved by a particular Set that de⯑light in that agreeable Harmony, as pleaſing to the Ear, as a Sow-gelder's Horn, that ſets all the Village Curs to imitate the Sound); Mr. Smith gave the Signal, the Curtain dropp'd, and the Audience diſmiſs'd. No Per⯑ſuaſions could prevail upon him to appear on the Stage again, till that great Poet, Mr. Congreve, had wrote his Comedy of Love for Love, which was in the Year 1695. more than three Years void from the above Accident. This celebrated Author prevailed upon ſeveral Perſons of the Firſt Rank to move Mr. Smith to appear in the Character of Scandal in that excellent Comedy: But he yielded more to the Perſuaſions of his ſincere Friends, Mr. Betterton and Mrs. Barry, and accepted the Part; and his inimitable Performance added one Grace to the Play. He took his Station in many Plays afterwards, for, I think, three Years. He died of a Cold, occa⯑ſino'd by a violent Fit of the Cramp; for when he was firſt ſeiz'd, he threw himſelf out of Bed, and remained ſo long before the Cramp left him (in that naked Con⯑dition), that a Cold fell upon his Lungs, a Fever enſu'd, and Death releas'd him in three Days after.
n
Mrs. Oldmixon, a celebrated Singer from England now in Dublin.
o
Mademoiſelle Mechel, an agreeable Dancer, now performing in Smock-alley Theatre.
p
Holſtein is a Dukedom of Lower Saxony in Germany One Part belongs to the King of Denmark, the reſt the Duke of Holſtein. It has two Imperial Cities: The firſt, Lubeck, a large, fair, and rich Town, accumulated by Trade and Navigation, ſeated about two Miles from the Baltick Sea; the other City is Hamburgh upon the Elbe, one of the moſt opulent Marts in Lower Germany, it being a free City, and ſelf-dependent. It is very ſtrongly fortify'd. The River Elbe ebbs and flows with the Tide, and wafts Ships of large Burden to the Port, from all Parts of the World.
q
Since this is a Pillar, now the fineſt in the World, and not generally known in this Kingdom, I'll give a Deſcription of it. This noble Structure is erected near the Spot where the dreadful Fire began in the Year 1666. deſign'd by that great Architect Sir Chriſtopher Wren. It is a fluted Column, Two hundred and two Feet high, the greateſt Diameter of the Shaft fifteen Foot, the lower Part of the Pedeſtal Twenty-eight Foot ſquare, and Forty Foot high; built with Portland Stone, finely poliſh'd; the winding Stair-caſe within (containing 345 Steps, ten Inches and an half broad) black Marble, inclos'd in the ſpiral Round with Baluſtrades of Iron, turn'd and orna⯑mented. Thirty-two Foot from the Top, is a ſquare Balcony, ſecured with Iron Rails, with their Capitals and Baſes gilt. The Top of this noble Pillar is crown'd with a Flame, gilt. On the Weſt Side of the ſquare Pedeſtal, London is deſcribed by the Figure of a Woman lamenting the Ruins of the City in Flames on one Side of her; and, fronting her, London in all its Magnificence, rebuilt. This noble Sculpture was deſign'd and finiſh'd, in Baſſo⯑relievo, by Caius Gabriel Cibber, Father to the Laureat. This Pillar was begun in 1671. and finiſh'd in the Year 1677. at the Charge of the Public, in Commemoration of that fatal Fire in 1666. on the Second Day of Sep⯑tember, which conſum'd 13200 Houſes, 400 Streets, 89 Churches, and moſt of the public Structures. The Top of the ſquare Baſe is ornamented by large Dragons, be⯑tween them the Arms of England, with Engines of War diſplay'd; Time, with the reſt of the Figures, maſterly finiſh'd; with London, repreſented in the Clouds in an⯑other Figure of a Woman looking on the City once more in her Glory; form a noble Group, that cannot be de⯑ſcrib'd in Words. The three other Squares are fill'd with Inſcriptions relating to the fatal Accident (tho' ſome Au⯑thors impute it to Deſign) too long to mention here.
r
The firſt Dramatic Piece of Mr. Dryden, that great Poet, was, a Comedy call'd The Wild Gallant, that met with ſo little Succeſs (as Langbain ſays), "that if he had not a peculiar Force of Inclination to the Drama, he would have been ſufficiently diſcouraged from any far⯑ther Progreſs in Dramatic Writing".
a
'Tis poſſible every body cannot tell where Bourdeaux lies: It is a very fine City and Sea-port, the Capital of the Province of Guicnne. It is graced with a Parliament, a Univerſity, and an Archbiſhop, ſeated on the fine Ri⯑ver Garonne, and is eſteemed one of the richeſt trading Cities in France. Auſonius, a celebrated Latin Poet, owes his Birth to this Place. Moſt Lovers of Bacchus very much commend the Growth of its Grape. One of our Engliſh Monarchs (Richard the Second) drew here his firſt Breath. This Dukedom was once an Attendant upon the Crown of England, as tack'd to the Tail of Eleanor Heireſs of Poictiers, wedded to King Henry the Second, which is my chief Reaſon for this Scrap of Geo⯑graphy. There is alſo a very handſome Theatre in this City, and the Country exceeding pleaſant about it, be⯑ing in the South of France.
a
He was interr'd in St. Michan's Church-yard, near the Remains of his Father-in-law, Joſeph Aſhbury, Eſq Mr. Elrington had one Daughter marry'd to Mr. Wright⯑ſon, now in England with a Country Company. I ne⯑ver ſaw her; but have been inform'd ſhe has many pro⯑miſing Theatrical Talents.
a

A Polypus is an Excreſcence, or fleſhy fungous Sub⯑ſtance that grows in or about the Heart; a ſlow, but certain Death. This Diſtemper is ſometimes found in the thick Membrane of the Brain, which proves fatal. This Diſeaſe often ſeizes the Noſe, and other hollow Parts of the Body, fixing its Fibres like the Root of a Plant, which muſt be cut off, and intirely eradicated, or it will grow again.

How many Ways has proud imperious Death,
To plunder, ſtorm, and ſteal away our Breath!
w

The firſt Account of this eminent Performer I had from the late Mr. John Bowman, an Actor more than Half an Age on the London Theatres.

This Gentleman was born in the Year 1666. and died in the Year 1739. I have often heard him ſay, he never remember'd that any Indiſpoſition retarded his coming to the Theatre during his long Courſe of Life; and this De⯑claration was made not a Month before he died. He never met with Contempt in the latter Part of his Life; and we may end with two Lines in Jane Shore:

Age ſat with decent Grace upon his Viſage,
And worthily became his ſilver Locks.
x
Mr. Elmy, her Huſband, I know, was born at Nor⯑wich; but where he is now, I believe neither ſhe nor I can tell.
y
I took theſe Lines of Verſe from the Mouth of Mr. Wilks.
z
Foils are the Name of thoſe Swords us'd in the The⯑atre, with the Edges ground off, and a blunted Point.
a
Mr. Wilks's own Words.
b

Mr. Farquhar was a Perſon of infinite Humour, as I have been inform'd, even in his laſt Indiſpoſition. He died in the Run of the Stratagem. Mr. Wilks often vi⯑ſited him in his Illneſs. In one of theſe Viſits, Mr. Wilks told Mr. Farquhar, that Mrs. Oldfield thought he had dealt too freely with the Character of Mrs. Sullen, in giving her to Archer without a proper Divorce, which was not a Security for her Honour. To ſalve that, re⯑ply'd the Author, I'll get a real Divorce—Marry her my⯑ſelf, and give her my Bond ſhe ſhall be a real Widow in leſs than a Fortnight. While Mr. Farquhar was in Tri⯑nity College, Dublin, he ſent to a Gentleman to borrow Burnet's Hiſtory of the Reformation; but the Gentleman ſent him Word he never lent any Book out of his Cham⯑ber; but, if he would come there, he ſhould make uſe of it as long as he pleas'd. A little While after, the Owner of the Book ſent to borrow Mr. Farquhar's Bellows; he return'd him the Compliment—I never lend my Bellows out of my own Chamber; but if he pleas'd to come there, be ſhould make uſe of them as long as he would. When he expir'd, Mr. Wilks took Care to bury him decently in St. Martin in the Fields. Among his Papers he found this ſhort Note:

Dear Bob,

I have not any thing to leave thee to perpetuate my Memory, but two helpleſs Girls; look upon them ſometimes, and think of him that was, to the laſt Mo⯑ments of his Life, Thine,

G. FARQUHAR."

Even the two laſt Lines he ever wrote, ſeem'd to be playing with Words.

Death now appears to ſeize my lateſt Breath;
But all my Miſeries will end in Death.

Mr. Farquhar attempted to play the Part of Sir Harry Wildair for his own Benefit, as I am inform'd from a Gentleman that ſaw him in this Kingdom, which an⯑ſwer'd his Deſign, in gaining a crouded Audience; but he executed the Part ſo lamely, as an Actor, that his Friends were aſham'd for him. Thus we ſee a good Poet may make but an indifferent Actor.

d

This truly great Comedian was born in Caſtle-ſtreet, Dublin (a Circumſtance overlook'd by the Lau⯑reat). He left his Occupation, as an Actor, ſeveral Years before his Death; and, in his Will, bequeathed to Watermens-Hall a Sum for ever, ſufficient to buy a Coat and Silver Badge, to be row'd for on the Thames by 'Prentices every Year, that have fulfilled their In⯑dentures. A humorous Poet wrote the following Lines upon the Occaſion on a Glaſs Window at Lambeth, the Firſt of Auguſt 1736.

Tom Dogget, the greateſt ſly Drole in his Parts,
In Acting, was certain a Maſter of Arts,
A Monument left—no Herald is fuller,
His Praiſe is ſung yearly by many a Sculler:
Ten thouſand Years hence, if the World laſts ſo long,
Tom Dogget will ſtill be the Theme of their Song.
Old Noll, with great Lewis and Bourbon, forgot,
And numberleſs Kings in Oblivion ſhall rot.
e

I have mentioned Jo Trefuſis before, but ſhall add ſomething here which I have learn'd from Mr. Huſband. Jo was reputed the natural Son of Oliver Cromwell; but, I muſt own, he did not ſeem to have any Reſem⯑blance of Features with his Father, if we may judge by the Pictures and Gravings of the Protector: Jo had a long Chin, and naturally a moſt conſummate fooliſh Face, by Nature formed for ſuitable Characters; yet a Perſon of infinite Humour, and ſhrewd Conceits; with a particular Tone of Voice and Manner, that gave a double Satisfaction to what he ſaid: Adhering ſtrictly to Honeſty, without Guile or Falſhood; which, I ſup⯑poſe, he inherited from his Mother; he acquired the Appellative, from all that knew him, of Honeſt Jo! A Character he bore with Juſtice. Jo, by the following Account of himſelf, muſt have been very young on the Stage. He entered a Volunteer on board the Ship where the Duke of York commanded in the Chanel, in that memorable Sea-Engagement with the Dutch Fleet, commanded (I think) by Van Tromp, in the Year 1673. When the Preparations were making for the Battle, Jo, tho' a Volunteer, confeſs'd, Fear began to invade him; but, when the Man at the Topmaſt Head cry'd, a Sail! then two Sail! and after, Zounds, a whole Wood! Jo's Terrors augmented: But his Fears came to the full Height, when a Sailor aſk'd him, If he had not per⯑formed on the Stage? Jo reply'd in the Affirmative Why then (reply'd the blunt Tarr) To-morrow, if you are not kill'd the firſt Broadſide, by G—d you will ſee the deepeſt and bloodieſt Tragedy you ever ſaw in your Life.

Jo was ſo inimitable in dancing the Clown, that Ge⯑neral Ingoldſby was ſo well pleaſed, that he ſent him Five Guineas from the Box where he ſat. Jo dreſſed himſelf next Day, and went to the Caſtle to return Thanks. The General was hard to be perſuaded it was the ſame Perſon; but Jo ſoon convinc'd him, by ſay⯑ing, Iſe the very Mon, an't pleaſe your Ex-cell-en-cey and, at the ſame time, twirling his Hat, as he did in the Dance, with his conſummate fooliſh Face and Scrape Nay, now I am convinced, reply'd the General (laugh⯑ing), and thou ſhalt not ſhow ſuch a Face for nothing here—So gave Jo Five Guineas more; which ſo well pleaſe him, that he paid his Compliments in his aukward clowniſh Manner, and, as Shakeſpear ſays, Set the Table on a Roar. So Exit Jo.

f
Mr. Curll was a Perſon of extraordinary Talents, very pleaſing in Converſation, and could extract Gold from Dirt. He had the Art of forming a Title to a Book beyond the reſt of the Craft, or even the Author themſelves. I have forgot how he came to ſtumble over Mr. Pope; for Mr. Curll was a little purblind, and loſt his Sight ſome Years before his Death. But Mr Pope in Revenge invited him to a Tavern, under the Colour of Friendſhip: Sack being a favourite Liquor with Mr. Curll, this great Poet had a Draught prepares in an antimonial Cup, which the unſuſpecting Book ſeller chearfully drank off to the Health of his good Friend Mr. Pope. But the Operation began to work before he could reach his own Houſe, with ſuch violen Motions, that the intended Farce was near ending in the Tragedy of Mr. Edmund Curll. The next Day, to com⯑plete his Revenge, Mr. Pope publiſhed a humourous Account of the Murder of Mr. Curll by Poiſon. By this Poet and Bookſeller, to their Deaths, declared fe War againſt each other; and tho' the latter might b [...] put to his Shifts ſometimes, yet he often found Meat to gall his Kibe. Pope, in his Dunciad, had made Cur a Demi-hero, and has filthily bedaub'd him with Ho⯑nours; but enrag'd Wit, like a Waſp diſturb'd, w [...] fly at harmleſs Paſſengers, and leave their poiſoned Sting behind.
g
St. Luke was a Painter, and thoſe that follow that Art have choſen him for their Patron; and make his Day a Time of Mirth and Jollity.
s
It is a Cuſtom with the Inland Hottentots (who are not under the Eye of the Dutch at the Cape) when they perceive their Relations drooping with Age and Infirmi⯑ties, either to carry them into ſome diſtant Wood for Beaſts to devour, or end them by Ax or Halter at Home; and have a Saying among them—No Work, no Meat.
t
Phocyas in the Siege of Damaſcus.
d
There are two Richmonds in England; one in York⯑ſhire, that gives the Title to that illuſtrious Family; the other Richmond is Ten Miles from London. It may rank with ſome Cities in England for its Extent, but I know of none that can equal it in its fine Situation upon the noble River Thames, its healthful Air, beautiful va⯑rious Proſpects from the Hill, and its increaſing noble Buildings.
e
We may gather, from this Author, that the Paſſage mention'd was in the Year 1715. when the Rebel Lords ſuffer'd Death, and Lord Nithiſdale made his Eſcape from the Tower, diſguiſed by his Lady in her Habit. Sir Ro⯑ger Moſtings, then Commander in the Fourth Troop of Life-guards, ſpoke too freely in Favour of the impriſon'd Noblemen that were concern'd in the Rebellion, and therefore was order'd to leave the Court, and retire to his Eſtate; as alſo the Earl of Nottingham, the Earl of Aileſ⯑ford, the Lords Finche and Guernſey, my Lord Portmore, the Earl of Orkney, Lord Windſor, and many others; all depriv'd of their Poſts and Places, with the ſame Or⯑ders to retire to their Eſtates. Sir Roger was eſteemed one of the handſomeſt Men in the Kingdom, witty, well⯑bred, and had a great Eſtate; which proves that Mrs. Oldfield deſpiſed Intereſt, and would not give her Hand without her Heart.
f
This great Man was taken up in London for Suſpi⯑cion of Debt, and dealt with the honeſt Officer in the following Manner: He firſt call'd for Liquor in abun⯑dance, and treated all about him, to the no ſmall Joy of the Bailiff, who was rejoiced to have a Calf that bled ſo well (as they term it). Harlequin made the honeſt Bailiff believe he had ſix Dozen of Wine ready pack'd up, which he would ſend for, to drink while in Cuſtody, and like⯑wiſe allow him Six-pence a Bottle for drinking it in his own Chamber. Shoulder-dab liſten'd to the Propoſal with Pleaſure: The Bailiff went to the Place, as directed, and return'd with Joy, to hear that it ſhould be ſent in the Morning early. Accordingly, it came by a Porter, ſweating under his Load: The Turnkey call'd to his Maſter, and told him, the Porter and Hamper were come in: Very well, ſays he, then let nothing but the Porter and Hamper out. The Porter perform'd his Part very well; came heavily in with an empty Hamper, and ſeem'd to go lightly out, with Philips on his Back. He was diſ⯑hamper'd at an Alehouſe near the Water-ſide, croſs'd the Thames, and, ſoon after, embark'd for Ireland. He was very fond of this Trick, and would take Pride in his Project, which was contriv'd long before he was taken, to be ready on ſuch an Emergency. When this Scheme was concerted with the Porter, he made this threatening Speech to him; G—d ſtrike me plump (his uſual Speech)! if you are not as ſecret as the Sun at Noon-day, I'll broil you, and eat you alive, you Dog! Exit Phillips.
g
I have been informed this Gentleman had a con⯑ſiderable Poſt at Cape-Breton: If it be true, the Dura⯑tion of his Office (now Peace is concluded) may not laſt him longer than the Government of the Theatre.
h
Bromſgrove is one of the chief trading Towns in the County for the fineſt Broad Cloths, containing about 500 well-built Houſes on the Brink of the River Sal⯑warp, 93 meaſur'd Miles from London.
i
Mr. Aſhbury informed me, that Mr. Richards was a very good Actor, both in Tragedy and Comedy, but not over-happy in his perſonal Appearance.
k
Mrs. Price did not ſurvive her Marriage above a Twelvemonth. She expired childleſs in the Year 1712. the 20th Year of her Age.
l

Mr. William Mountford was accounted an excellent Comedian; and Mr. Wilks often confeſs'd, he was the Glaſs that he ever adjuſted himſelf by.

Mr. Mountford was baſely murder'd by a Thruſt thro' the Back, while a falſe Friend held him in his Arms with a treacherous Embrace, in Norfolk-ſtreet in the Strand, in the Year 1692. He was the Author of the following Plays.

1. Injur'd Love, or, The Ambitious Father. A Tragedy, 1688.

2. The Succeſsful Strangers. A Comedy, 1690.

3. Greenwich Park. A Comedy, 1691.

4. The Life and Death of Dr. Fauſtus, 1691. with the Humours of Harlequin and Scaramouch. An Enter⯑tainment of Three Acts.

m
Mr. Cibber has, from this Play of Marriage Ala⯑mode, and the Comedy Part of Secret Love, or the Mai⯑den Queen, compounded (with ſome Ingredients of his own) an excellent Comedy called the Comical Lovers.
n
Green-Rooms are the Chambers where the princi⯑pal Performers retire, till they are called to their En⯑trances where they are to go on the Stage.
o

Mrs. Wilks was interr'd in the Church of Covent-Garden, with the following Inſcription on her Tomb, wrote by her Huſband.

Beneath this Marble
Lies Elizabeth Wilks, late Wife to Robert Wilks,
of this Pariſh, Gent.
The Purity of her Mind, which appeared in all the
Duties of a virtuous Life, made her a good Wife,
Daughter, Mother, and Friend.
Her Affection was like her Piety,
Conſtant, as unfeigned, to her laſt Moment.
In Memory of her Virtues,
This Monument was erected by her Huſband.
She died the 21ſt of March 1713-14, in the 42d Year of her Age.
p
I ſhall relate an unfortunate Accident concerning John Brown, Eſq the Father of Mr. Wilks's Second Wife, which he informed me of. This Gentleman lived near Spelmonden in Kent, on a handſome Eſtate. He took great Delight in Shooting. One Day he went out with his Servant to his uſual Diverſion; they ſprung ſome Game that flew over a neighbouring Hedge; he ordered his Servant to follow and obſerve them on the other Side, while he would take care on the Side where he was. The Hedge was of great Extent, and Mr. Brown went ſlowly by the Side, in Expectation of the Game; at laſt they came, and he fired. The Servant on the other Side of the Hedge did the ſame, and un⯑fortunately ſhot his Maſter in the Face, only with Two Grains of Shot; but, alas! one in each Eye, that for ever deprived him of Sight! Yet Mr. Wilks inform'd me, he was as chearful a Gentleman as ever he con⯑verſed with; and would lead him to every particular Fruit-tree in his large Garden, and nominate the Fruit they bore; and that very Servant, the Innocent Guilty, as he call'd him, lived with him at the Time I received this Account from Mr. Wilks.
q
Peterſburgh, Jan. 7. O. S.
My dear Friend,

I Received yours with inexpreſſible Pleaſure, by Cap⯑tain Pawlet, with the Books. How ſhall I thank you? But no Matter. You deſire I would give you an Account of myſelf. I am, at this Inſtant, alone in my Chamber, wrapt up to my Noſe in Furs, before a Wood-fire, that might ſerve you in the Street for a Night of Rejoicing (for Stoves I do not uſe); on my Right of the Table, my Ink and Paper; on the Left, a Bottle of good Nantz, tho' I'm no Sot; and yet the Moon and Stars ſhine bright, without a Cloud large enough to cover a Tragedy Plume. When Day ap⯑pears, I muſt ſee it with a Candle; for my Windows will be covered with a cold Coat of Froſt, more of a thick Subſtance than the Glaſs; and yet it is not three to one, but To-morrow's Sun's ſhort Progreſs will un⯑cloath 'em, and leave 'em ſlark naked again. If I were to appear before you, faſhionably dreſs'd, you would take me for a Ruſſian Bear, I am ſo clumſily be⯑furr'd, not only from Top to Toe (as Hamlet ſays), but Head and Feet.

I have Practice, more than I deſire, this cold, cold Weather, and well paid: A Phyſician to the Crown here never wants Practice. I was ſent for Yeſterday to a Man that had been dead ſome Hours, a Nobleman's Servant, frozen to Death behind his Maſter's Sled; but I left him to be bury'd (firſt receiving my Fee, and a Pint Glaſs of Brandy); for I am not holy enough to work Miracles.

I have a good Stomach, and eat and drink well. Here is no want of any thing, but Warmth in our long Winter, and Coolneſs in our ſhort Summer, be⯑ing many Degrees different from you in both. How⯑ever, we have our Winter Fires, and Summer ſhady Groves and Bowers. I have ſerved my Time to the Language of the Country, and it is now become my Servant. My Royal Miſtreſs is a good plump round⯑fac'd Lady, and does me the Honour to aſk me ſome Queſtions, now we underſtand each other. Were you here, you would have but a ſmall Share in Amours; Love goes by Weight in Ruſſia, and thoſe that thrive in Fleſh, ſucceed beſt. A native Painter would draw Venus like an overgrown Hoſteſs, and Harper would make an excellent Mars in Picture, lolling at the Feet of the fat Cyprian Goddeſs: Were the well-grown Bear here, he would be Bojar (or Lord) at his firſt Landing. My greateſt Taſk is to keep ſober amongſt a Nation of Drunkards. Captain Pawlet will bring you a few Furs, with a ſmall Quantity of Ermin, the Product of Ruſſia. Were I ſettled in Geeenland, I ſhould do the ſame, and land you a Whale, or a White Bear. You will receive them without any other Weight but them⯑ſelves. But who gave me theſe Furs? this Affluence? this Royal Miſtreſs? this happy Situation? A Man juſt of your Age and Stature. If you can't find him out, aſk my dear and worthy Friend Sir Harry Wildair, and tell him at the ſame time the Grain was his; and the Reaper, with the Crop, ſhall ever be at his Com⯑mand, &c.

r
This ſuperexcellent Comedian, by his own Requeſt, was interr'd at 12 o'Clock at Night, to avoid Oſtentation; yet, to pay his Memory the greateſt Honour that was ever done to a Subject, the Gentlemen of the Choir belonging to the King's Chapel came voluntarily, and performed ar Anthem prepared for the ſolemn Occaſion.
s
Property-man is the Perſon that receives a Bill from the Prompter, for what is neceſſary in every new or re⯑viv'd Play; as Purſes, Wine, Suppers, Poiſon, Daggers, Halters, Axes, and many more Implements of Execution, with a Thouſand other &c. &c. &c.
t

I ſhall mention, as my laſt Note, an Accident that fell out at this Play, the firſt Seaſon it was perform'd, in the Year 1699. which I gather'd from that Stage Chro⯑nicle, Mr. John Bowman.

Lothario, after he is kill'd by Altamont in the 4th Act, lies dead by Proxy in the 5th, raiſed on a Bier covered with Black by the Property-man, and the Face whitened by the Barber, the Coat and Perriwig generally filled by one of the Dreſſers. Moſt of the capital Actors in the eſtabliſh'd Theatres have generally a Dreſſer to them⯑ſelves, tho' they are paid by the Manager, to be ready, on all Occaſions, for Stage-guards, Attendance, &c.

Mr. Powell played Lothario, and one Warren, his Dreſſer, claimed a Right of lying for his Maſter, and performing the dead Part of Lothario, which he propoſed to act to the beſt Advantage; tho' Powell was ignorant of the Matter. The Fifth Act began, and went on, as uſual, with Applauſe; but, about the Middle of the diſ⯑treſsful Scene, Powell called aloud for his Man Warren, who as loudly replied, from the Bier on the Stage, Here, Sir! Powell (who, as I ſaid before, was ignorant of the Part his Man was doing) repeated, without Loſs of Time, Come here this Moment, you Son of a Whore! or I'll break all the Bones in your Skin. Warren knew his haſty Tem⯑per; therefore, without any Reply, jump'd off, with all his Sables about him, which, unfortunately, were tied faſt to the Handles of the Bier, and dragg'd after him. But this was not all; the Laugh and Roar began in the Audience, till it frighten'd poor Warren ſo much, that, with the Bier at his Tail, he threw down Caliſta (Mrs. Barry), and overwhelm'd her with the Table, Lamp, Book, Bones, together with all the Lumber of the Char⯑nel-houſe. He tugg'd, till he broke off his Trammels, and made his Eſcape; and the Play, at once, ended with immoderate Fits of Laughter: Even the grave Mr. Bet⯑terton

Smil'd in the Tumult, and enjoy'd the Storm.

But he would not let the Fair Penitent be play'd any more that Seaſon, till poor Warren's Miſconduct was ſomething forgot.

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