MISS STEPHENS (laughing). I shall only sing one stanza of this ballad—it's too sentimental.

MISS SMITHSON (aside, but loud enough for the manager to hear). Ton my honour, Mr. Elliston never casts me any thing but the sentimental dolls and la la ladies.

G— SMITH (in a full bass voice). Nor me any thing but the rough cottagers and banditti men; but, never mind, my bass solo will do the trick.

GATTIE (yawning). I wish it was twelve o'clock, for I'm half asleep, and I've made a vow never to take snuff before twelve; if you don't believe me, ask Mrs. G. After the hit I made in Monsieur Tonson, it's d—d hard they don't write more Frenchmen.

MADAME VESTRIS. Mr. Author, can't you make this a breeches part?—I shall be all abroad in petticoats.

BERNARD BLACKMANTLE. I should wish to be at home with Madame Vestris.

MRS. HARLOWE. Really, Mr. Author, this part of mine is a mere clod's wife—nothing like so good as Dame Ashfield. Could not you introduce a supper-scene?

At length silence is once more obtained; the author finishes his task, and retires from the Green-room looking as blue as Megrim, and feeling as fretful as the renowned Sir Plagiary. Of the success or failure of the two productions, I shall speak in the next volume; when I propose to give the first night of a new play, with sketches of some of the critical characters who usually attend. In the evening, Transit, Echo, and Heartly enlisted me for the Lord Mayor's ball at the Mansion House—a most delightful squeeze; and, it being during Waithman's mayoralty, abounding with lots of character for my friend Bob; to whose facetious pencil, I must at present leave the scene (see plate); intending to be more particular in my civic descriptions, should I have the honour of dining with the Corporation next year in their Guildhall.

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