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town, but let her have her will in going to a masque, ' and the fall drets as a thepher Jets. But let me beg of " them to read thic Arcadia, or foinc other good romance, ' before they appear in any such character at
house. • The last day we presented, every boly was to rathiy 'habited, that when they came to speak to each other,
a nymph with a crook had not a word to fay but in the pert ftile of the pit bawdry; and a man in the habit of a philosopher was specchless, till an occafion offered
of exprefling hiinself in the refuse of the tvring-rooms. • We had a judge that danced a minuet with a quaker ' for his partner, while half a dozen harlequins stood by
as spectators; a Turk drank me off two bottles of wine, • and a Jew cat me up half a ham of bacon. If I can
bring my design to bear, and make the masquers pre• serve their characters in my affemblies, I hope you will " allow there is a foundation laid for more elegant and
improving gallantries than any the town at present • affords; and consequently that you will give your appro« bation to the endeavours of,
6 Your most obedient
( humble servant."
I am very glad the following epistle obliges me to mention Mr. Powell a second time in the fame paper; for indeed there cannot he too great encouragement given to his skill in motions, provided he is under proper restrictions.
• Sir, THE Opera at the Hay-Market, and that under the
little Piazza in Covent-Garden, being at prefent 6 the two leading diversions of the town, and Mr. Pow6 ell profething in his advertisernents to set up Whitting
• the stage.
ton and his Cat against Rinaldo and Armida, my cu
riosity led me the beginning of last week to view both • thefe performances, and make my observations upon 6 them.
First therefore, I cannot but observe that Mr. Powell, • wisely forbearing to give his company a bill of fare • beforehand, every scene is new and unexpected; • whereas it is certain, that the undertakers of the Hay
Market, having raised too great an expectation in their printed opera, very much disappoint the audience on ' The King of Jerusalem is obliged to come from the
city on foot, instead of being drawn in a triumphant • chariot by white horses, as my opera-book had pro' mised me; and thus while I expected Armida’s dra
gons should rush forward towards Argantes, I found • the hero was obliged to go to Armida, and hand her
out of her coach. We had also but a very short al• lowance of thunder and lightning; though I cannot in • this place omit doing justice to the boy who had the • direction of the tivo painted dragons, and made them
fpit fire and smoke; he flashed out his rosin in such " just proportions and in such due time, that I could not • forbear conceiving hopes of his being one day a inost
excellent player. I saw indeed but two things wanting
to render his whole action complete, I mean the kcep• ing his head a little lower, and hiding his candie.
· I observe that Mr. Powell and the undertakers had • both the same thought, and I think much about the • same time, of introducing animals on their feveral
stages, though indeed with very different success. The Sparrows and Chaffinches at thc Hay-Maiket fly as vet very irregularly over the stage; and instead of perching on the trecs and performing their parts,
there • actors cither get into the galleries, or put out the canodles; whereas Mr. Powell has so well disciplined his
Pig, that in the first scene he and Punch dance a mi
nuet together. I am informed, however, that Mr. • Powell resolves to excel his adversaries in their own way, and introduce larks in his next opera of Susan
• nah, or Innocence Petraved, which will be exhibited next weck with a pair of neiv Elders. · The moral of Powell's drama is violated, I confess, by Purch's national reflections on the French, and • King Harry's laying his leg upon the Queen's lap in
too ludicrous a manner before 10 great an afsembly.
• As to the mechanisin and scenery, every thing ita• deed was uniform and of a piece, and the scenes were ' managed very dexterously; which calls on ine to take • notice, that at the Hay-Market, the undertakers for
getting to change their fide-fcenes, we were presented • with a prospect of the ocean in the midst of a delightful
grove; and though the gentlemen on the fiage had very much contributed to the beauty of the grove, by
walking up and down between the trees, I must own • I was not a little astonishied to fee a well-dressed young • fellow, in a full-bottomed wig, appear in the midst • of the fea, and, without any visible concern, taking • Inuit.
• I thall only observe one thing farther, in which • both dramas agrce; which is, that by the fqueak of o their voices the heroes of each are cunuchs; and as • the wit in both pieces is equal, I must prefer the pera • formance of Mr. Powell, because it is in cur own language. .
' I am, &c.'
No. XV. SATURDAY, MARCH 17.
Parva leves capiunt animos
WHEN I was in France. I used to gaze
great aitonishment at the splendid equipages and partycoloured habits of that fantastic nation. I was one day in particular contemplating a lady that fat in a coach adorned with gilded Cupids, and finely painted
with the loves of Venus and Adonis. The coach was drawn by fix milk-white horses, and loaded behind with the same number of powdered footinen. Just before the Jady were a couple of beautiful pages, that were stuck among the haincis; and by their gay diesses and smiling features, looked like the elder brothers of the little boys that were carved and painted in every corner of the coach.
The lady was the unfortunate Cleanthe, who afterwards gave an occasion to a pretty melancholy novel. She had for several years received the addresles of gen. tleman, whom after a long and intimate acquaintance the forsook, upon the account of this shining equipage, which had been offered to her by one of great riches, but a crazy constitution. The circumstances in which I saw her, ivere, it seeins, the disguises only of a broken heart, and a kind of pageantry to cover distress; for in two months after, the was carried to her grave with the fame pomp and magnificence; being fent thither partly by the loss of one lover, and partly by the posseflion of another.
I have often reflected with myself on this unaccountable humour in womankind, of being linitten with every thing that is ihowy and fuperficial; and on the numberless evils that betal the fex from this light fantastical disposition. I myself remember a young lady that was very warmly folicited by a couple of importunate rivals ; who, for several months together, did all they could to recommend themselves, by complacency of behaviour, and agreeableness of conversation. At length, when the competition was doubtful, and the lady undetermined in her choice, one of the young lovers very luckily bethought himself of adding a supernumerary lace to his liveries which had fo good an effect that he married her the very week after.
The usual conversation of ordinary women very much cherishes this natural weakness of being taken with outfide appearance. Talk of a ne:v-married couple, and you immediately hear whether they keep their coach and fix, or eat in plate; mention the name of an abfent lady,
and it is ten to one but you learn something of her gown and petticoat. A ball is a great help to discourse, and a birth-day furnishes conversation for a twelvemonth after: a furbelow of precious stones, an hat buttoned with a diamond, a brocade waistcoat or petticoat, are standing topics. In short, thev consider only the drapery of the fpecies, and never cast away a thought on those ornaments of the mind that make persons illustrious in theinfelves and useful to others. When women are thus perpetually dazzling one another's imaginations, and filling their heads with nothing but colours, it is no won. der that they are more attentive to the fuperficial parts of life than the solid and substantial blessings of it. A girl who has been trainid up in this kind of conversation, is in danger of every embroidered coat that comes in her way :-A pair of fringed gloves may be her ruin. word, lace and ribbons, silver and gold galloons, with the like glittering gew-gaws, are fo many lures to women of weak minds or low educations; and when artificially displaved, are able to fitch down the most airy coquette from the wildeit of her flights and ramblis.
True happiness is of a retired nature, and an enemy to pomp and noise ; it arises, in the first place, from the enjoyment of one's feit; and, in the next, from the friendThip and conversation cf a few select companions ; it loves thade and folitude, and naturally haunts groves and fountains, fields and meadows: io short, it feels every thing it wants within itlelf, and receives no addition from multitudes of witneiles and spectators. On the contrary, false happiness loves to be in a crowd, and to draw the eyes of the world upon her. She does not receive any satisfaction from the applauses which she gives herself, but froin the admiration which she raises in others. She flourishes in courts and palaces, theatres and assemblies, and has no existence but when she is looked upon.
Aurelia, though a woman of great quality, delights in the privacy of a country life, and pailes away a great part of her time in her own walks and gardens. Her husband, who is her bosom friend and companion in her folitudes, has been in love with her ever fince he knew her. They