a shoulder of mutton," as there is by the butchers to make their veal look white; and it is as often rank carrion and fly-blown. If these ladies would appear in any other quarter of the house, I would only beg of them, and those who come to market, to drive their bargains with as little noise as possible: but I have lately observed with some concern, that these women begin to appear in the lower boxes to the destruction of all order, and great confusion of all modest ladies. It is to be hoped, that some of their friends will advise them not to pretend to appear there any more than at court: for it is as absurd to endeavour the removal of their market into the front and side boxes, as it would be in the butchers of St. James's market to attempt fixing the shambles in St. James's Square.

I must now desire the reader to descend with me, among laced hats and capuchins, into the pit. The pit is the grand court of criticism; and in the centre of it is collected that awful body, distinguished by the title of The Town. Hence are issued the irrevocable decrees; and here final sentence is pronounced on plays and players. This court has often been very severe in its decisions, and has been known to declare many old plays barbarously murdered, and most of our modern ones felo de se: but it must not be dissembled, that many a cause of great consequence has been denied a fair hearing. Parties and private cabals have often been formed to thwart the progress of merit, or to espouse ignorance and dulness; for it is not wonderful, that the parliament of criticism, like all others, should be liable to corruption. In this assembly Mr. Town was first nominated Critic and Censor-General: But considering the notorious bribery now prevailing, I think proper to declare, (in imitation of Tom in the Conscious Lovers) that I never took a single order for my vote in all my life.

Those, who pay their two shillings at the door of the middle gallery, seem to frequent the theatre purely for the sake of seeing the play: Though these peaceful regions are sometimes disturbed by the incursions of rattling ladies of pleasure; sometimes contain persons of fashion in disguise, and sometimes critics in ambush. The greatest fault I have to object to those who fill this quarter of the theatre, is their frequent and injudicious interruption of the business of the play by their applause. I have seen a bad actor clapt two minutes together for ranting, or perhaps shrugging his shoulders, and making wry faces: and I have seen the natural course of the passions checked in a good one, by these ill-judged testimonies of their approbation. It is recorded of Betterton to his honour, that he thought a deep silence through the whole house, and a strict attention to his playing, the strongest and surest signs of his being well received.

The inhabitants of the upper-gallery demand our notice as well as the rest of the theatre. The trunkmaker of immortal memory was the most celebrated hero of these regions: but since he is departed, and no able-bodied critic appointed in his room, I cannot help giving the same caution to the upper-gallery, as to the gentry a pair of stairs lower. Some of the under-comedians will perhaps be displeased at this order, who are proud of these applauses, and rejoice to hear the lusty bangs from the oaken towels of their friends against the wainscot of the upper-gallery: but I think they should not be allowed to shatter the pannels without amending our taste; since their thwacks, however vehement, are seldom laid on with sufficient judgment to ratify our applause. It were better, therefore, if all the present twelve-penny critics of this town, who preside over our diversions in the uppergallery, would content themselves with the inferior duties of their office; viz. to take care that the play

begins at the proper time, that the music between the acts is of a due length, and that the candles are snuffed in tune.

After these brief admonitions concerning our behaviour at the play, which are intended as a kind of Vade mecum for the frequenters of the theatre, I cannot conclude my paper more properly than with an extract from the Tale of a Tub, shewing the judicious distribution of our play-houses into boxes, pit, and galleries.

"I confess, that there is something very refined in the contrivance and structure of our modern theatres. For, first; the pit is sunk below the stage, that whatever weighty matter shall be delivered thence, (whether it be lead or gold) may fall plum into the jaws of certain critics, (as I think they are called) which stand ready opened to devour them. Then, the boxes are built round, and raised to a level with the scene, in deference to the ladies; because that large portion of wit, laid out in raising pruriences and protuberances, is observed to run much upon a line, and ever in a circle. The whining passions, and little starved conceits, are gently wafted up by their own extreme levity, to the middle region, and there fix and are frozen by the frigid understandings of the inhabitants. Bombastry and buffoonry, by nature lofty and light, soar highest of all, and would be lost in the roof, if the prudent architect had not with much foresight contrived for them a fourth place, called the twelvepenny gallery, and there planted a suitable colony, who greedily intercept them in their passage.”

N° 44. THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1754,

-Des nominis hujus honorem.

HOR.

Let ev'ry Wapping Wife to Lady swell,
And each St. Giles's Miss be Ma'emoiselle.

I Lately took a survey of the female world, as Censor-General; and upon a strict review was very much surprised to find, that there is scarce one woman to be met with, except among the lowest of the vulgar. The sex consists almost entirely of ladies. Every Joan is listed into a lady; and the maid and the mistress are equally dignified with this polite title. The stage coaches are constantly filled with ladies- At Bartholomew fair there is always an hop for the ladiesAnd if the ladies in the drawing-room are employed at whist, their last night's cards are made use of in a rubber by the ladies in the steward's room; while the other ladies of the family are staking their halfpence at put or all-fours in the kitchen. In a word,

whenever there is occasion to speak of the female world, honourable mention is always made of them by the respectful appellation of the Ladies: as the young and the old, the black and the brown, the homely and the handsome, are all complaisantly included under the general title of the Fair.

Since therefore the ladies of Great-Britain make up so numerous a body, I should be loth to disoblige so considerable a sisterhood, and shall devote this paper entirely to their service. I propose at present to marshal them into their respective ranks; and upon a review I find that they may be justly distributed under these five divisions; viz. married ladies, maiden or

young ladies, ladies of quality, fine ladies, and lastly (without affront to the good company) ladies of pleasure.

I shall begin with the married ladies, as this order will be found to be far the most numerous, and includes all the married women in town or country above the degree of a chair-woman or the trundler of a wheelbarrow. The plain old English word wife has long been discarded in our conversation, as being only fit for the broad mouths of the vulgar. A well-bred ear is startled at the very sound of wife, as at a coarse and indelicate expression; and I appeal to any fashionable couple, whether they would not be as much ashamed to be mentioned together as man and wife, as they would be to appear together at court in a fardingale and trunk-breeches. From Hyde-Park-Corner to Temple-Bar this monster of a wife has not been heard of since the antiquated times of dame and your worship; and in the city every good housewife is at least a lady of the other end of the town. In the country you might as well dispute the pretensions of every foxhunter to the title of esquire, as of his helpmate to that of lady; and in every corporation town, whoever matches with a burgess, becomes a lady by right of charter. My cousin Village, (from whom I have all my rural intelligence) informs me, that upon the strictest enquiry there is but one wife in the town where he now lives, and that is the parson's wife, who is never mentioned by the country ladies but as a dowdy, and an old-fashioned creature. Such is the great privilege of matrimony, that every female is ennobled by changing her surname: for as every unmarried woman is a miss, every married one by the same courtesy is a lady.

The next order of dignified females is composed of maiden or young ladies; which terms are synonymous, and are indifferently applied to females of the