faw him leap upon the stage, and act his part with very great applaufe. It has been observed by feveral, that the lion has changed his manner of acting twice or thrice fince his first appearance; which will not feem strange, when I acquaint my reader that the lion has been changed upon the audience three feveral times. The first lion was a candle-fnuffer, who, being a fellow of a testy choleric temper, overdid his part, and would not fuffer himself to be killed so eafily as he ought to have done; befides, it was obferved of him, that he grew more furly every time he came out of the lion; and having dropt fome words in ordinary converfarion, as if he had not fought his best, and that he fuffered himfelf to be thrown upon his back in the fcuffle, and that he would wrestle with Mr. Nicolini for what he pleased, out of his lion's skin, it was thought proper to difcard him; and it is verily believed, to this day, that had he been brought upon the stage another time, he would certainly have done mischief. Besides, it was objected against the first lion, that he reared himself fo high upon his hinder paws, and walked in fo erect a pofture, that he looked more like an old man than a lion.

The fecond lion was a tailor by trade, who belonged to the play.house, and had the character of a mild and peaceable man in his profe fion. If the former was too furious, this was too fheepish for his part, infomuch that after a short modeft walk upon the stage, he would fall at the first touch of Hydafpes, without grappling with him, and giving him an opportunity of thewing his variety of Italian trips. It is said indeed, that he once gave him a rip in his flesh-coloured doublet; but this was only to make work for hinself, in his private character of a tailor. I must not omit that it was this second lion who treated me with so much humanity behind the scenes.

The acting lion at present is, as I am informed, a country-gentleman, who does it for his diversion, but defires his name may be concealed. He fays very handfomely, in his own excufe, that he does not act for gain;

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that he indulges an innocent pleasure in it; and that it is better to pass away an evening in this manner than in gaming and drinking; but at the fame time favs, with a very agreeable raillery upon himself, that if his name fhould be known, the ill-natured wo ld might call him The Afs in the Lion's skin. This gentleman's temper is made of fuch a happy mixture of the mild and the choleric, that he outdoes both his predeceifors, and has drawn together greater audiences than have been known in the memory of man.

I muft not conclude my narrative without taking notice of a groundless report that has been raised to a gentleman's disadvantage, of whom I must declare myfelf an admirer: namely, that Signior Nicolini and the lion have been feen fitting peaceably by one another, and smoking a pipe together behind the scenes; by which their common enemies would infinuate, that it is but a sham combat which they reprefent upon the stage; but upon enquiry I find, that if any fuch correfpondence has paffed between them, it was not till the combat was over, when the lion was to be looked upon as dead, according to the received rules of the Drama. Befides, this is what is practifed every day in Westminfter-Hall, where nothing is more ufual than to fee a couple of lawyers, who have been tearing each other to pieces in the court, embracing one another as foon as they are out of it.

I would not be thought, in any part of this relation, to reflect upon Siguior Nicolini, who in acting this part only complies with the wretched tafte of his audience; he knows very well that the lion has many more admirers than himself; as they fav of the famous equeftrian ftatue on the Pont-Neuf at Paris, that more people go to fee the horse, than the King who fits upon it. On the contrary, it gives me a just indignation to fee a perfon whose action gives new majesty to kings, refolution to heroes, and foftness to lovers, thus finking from the greatness of his behaviour, and degraded into the character of the London 'Prentice. I have often wished, that our t agedians would copy after this great mafter in action. action. Could they make the fame use of their arms and legs, and inform their faces with as fignificant looks and paffions, how glorious would an English tragedy appear with that action which is capable of giving a dignity 'to the forced thoughts, cold conceits, and unnatural expreffions of an Italian opera. In the mean time, I have related this combat of the lion, to shew what are at prefent the reigning entertainments of the politer part of Great Britain.

Audiences have often been reproached by writers for the coarfeness of their taste; but our present grievance does not feem to be the want of a good taste, but of common fenfe.

C

No. XIV. FRIDAY, MARCH 16.

Teque his, infelix, exue monftris.

OVID

Wretch that thou art! put off this monstrous shape.

I Was reflecting this morning upon the spirit and humour of the public diversions five-and-twenty years ago, and those of the present time; and lamented to myfeif, that, though in those days they neglected their morality, they kept up their good fenfe; but that the beau monde, at present, is only grown more childish, not more innocent, than the former. While I was in this train of thought, an odd fellow, whose face I have often feen at the play-house, gave me the following letter with these words: "Sir, The lion presents his humble service "to you, and defired me to give this into your own "hands."

Sir,

From my Den in the Hay-Market, March 15.

• Have read all your papers, and have ftifled my refentment against your reflections upon operas, till

that of this day, wherein you plainly infinuate, that • Signior

Signior Grimaldi and myself have a correfpondence ' more friendly than is confiftent with the valour of his character, or the fierceness of mine. I defire you would for your own fake forbear fuch intimations for the future; and must say, it is a great piece of ill-nature in you to thew so great an esteem for a foreigner, and ' to difcourage a lion that is your own countryman.

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' I take notice of your fable of the Lion and Man, but am so equally concerned in that matter, that I shall not • be offended to whichfoever of the animals the fuperiority is given. You have mifrepresented me, in faying 'that I am a country-gentleman who act only for my diwerfion; whereas, had I ftill the fame woods to range ' in which I once had when I was a fox-hunter, I should not refign my manhood for a maintenance; and affure you, as low as my circumstances are at present, I am • so much a man of honour, that I would scorn to be any beaft for bread but a Lion.

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' Yours, &c.'

I had no fooner ended this, than one of my landlady's children brought me in feveral others; with fome of which I fhall make up my present paper, they all having a tendency to the fame subject, viz. the elegance of our prefent diverfions.

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• Sir,

Covent-Garden, March 13.

Have been for twenty years Under-Sexton of this parish of St. Paul, Covent Garden, and have not * miffed tolling in to prayers fix times in all those years; • which office I have performed to my great fatisfaction ' till this fortnight last paft, during which time I find

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my congregation take the warning of my bell, morning ⚫ and evening, to go to a puppet-show, fet forth by one Powell, under the Piazzas. By this means, I have not only loft my two customers, whom I used to place for fixpence

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fixpence a-piece over-againft Mrs. Rachel Eye-bright, • but Mrs. Rachel herself is gone thither alfo. There now appear among us none but a few ordinary people, • who come to church only to fay their prayers; fo that I have no work worth fpeaking of but on Sundays. I have placed my fon at the Riazzas, to acquaint the la• dies that the bell rings for church, and that it stands on the other fide of the Garden; but they only laugh

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at the child.

• I defire you would lay this before all the world, that • I may not be made fuch a tool for the future, and that • Punchinello may choose hours less canonical. As things

are now, Mr. Powell has a full congregation, while • we have a very thin house; which if you can remedy,

you will very much oblige,

• Sir,

• Yours, &c.'

The following epistle, I find is from the Undertaker of the Masquerade.

• Sir,

I Have obferved the rules of my masque fo carefully (in not inquiring into perfons) that I cannot tell • whether you were one of the company or not last Tuesday; but if you were not, and still defign to come, ' I defire you would, for your own entertainment, please to admonish the town, that all perfons indifferently are not fit for this fort of diversion. I could with, Sir, you could make them understand that it is a kind of • acting to go in masquerade; and a man should be able ⚫ to fay or do things proper for the dress in which he appears. We have now and then rakes in the habit of Roman fenators, and grave politicians in the dress of rakes. The misfortune of the thing is, that people • dress themselves in what they have a mind to be, and • not what they are fit for. There is not a girl in the

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