JACK VERBRUGGEN, that rough Diamond, shone more bright than all the artful, polish'd Brillants that ever sparkled on our Stage.—(JACK bore the BELL away.)—He had the Words perfect at one View, and Nature directed 'em into Voice and Action, in which last he was always pleasing—his Person being tall, well-built and clean; only he was a little In-kneed, which gave him a shambling Gate, which was a Carelessness, and became him.—His chief Parts were Bajazet, Oroonoko, Edgar in King Lear, Wilmore in the Rover, and Cassius, when Mr. Betterton play'd Brutus with him.—Then you might behold the grand Contest, viz. whether Nature or Art excell'd—Verbruggen wild and untaught, or Betterton in the Trammels of Instruction.—-In Edgar, in King Lear, Jack shew'd his Judgment most; for his Madness was unlimited: Whereas he sensibly felt a Tenderness for Cordelia, in these Words, (speaking to her)—As you did once know Edgar!—And you may best conceive his manly, wild Starts, by these Words in Oroonoko,—Ha! thou hast rous'd the Lyon [in] his Den; he stalks abroad, and the wild Forest trembles at his Roar:—Which was spoke, like a Lyon, by Oroonoko, and Jack Verbruggen; for Nature was so predominant, that his second Thoughts never alter'd his prime Performance.—The late Marquess of Hallifax order'd Oroonoko to be taken from George Powel, saying to Mr. Southern, the Author,—That Jack was the unpolish'd Hero, and wou'd do it best.—In the Rover (Wilmore) never were more beautiful Scenes than between him, and Mrs. Bracegirdle, in the Character of Helena; for, what with Verbruggen's untaught Airs, and her smiling Repartees, the Audience were afraid they were going off the Stage every Moment.—Verbruggen was Nature, without Extravagance—Freedom, without Licentiousness—and vociferous, without bellowing.——He was most indulgently soft, when he says to Imoinda,—I cannot, as I wou'd, bestow thee; and, as I ought, I dare not.—Yet, with all these Perfections, Jack did, and said, more silly Things than all the Actors besides; for he was drawn in at the common Cheat of Pricking at the Girdle, Cups and Balls, &c. and told his Wife one Day that he had found out a Way to raise a great Benefit.—I hope, said she, you'll have your Bills printed in Gold Letters.—No, no, better than that, said he; for I'll have the King's-Arms all in Gold Letters.—As Mr. Verbruggen had Nature for his Directress in Acting, so had a known Singer, Jemmy Bowen, the same in Music:—He, when practising a Song set by Mr. Purcell, some of the Music told him to grace and run a Division in such a Place. O let him alone, said Mr. Purcell; he will grace it more naturally than you, or I, can teach him.—In short, an Actor, like a Poet,
Nascitur, non fit.
And this Author prizes himself on that Attempt, as he hath had the Judgment of all the best Critics in the Character of Fondlewife in the Old Batchelor.—If you wou'd see Nature, say they, see Tony Aston—if Art, Colley Cibber;—and, indeed, I have shed mock Tears in that Part often involuntarily.
Mrs. VERBRUGGEN claims a Place next. She was all Art, and her Acting all acquir'd, but dress'd so nice, it look'd like Nature. There was not a Look, a Motion, but what were all design'd; and these at the same Word, Period, Occasion, Incident, were every Night, in the same Character, alike; and yet all sat charmingly easy on her.—Her Face, Motion, &c. chang'd at once: But the greatest, and usual, Position was Laughing, Flirting her Fan, and je ne scay quois,—with a Kind of affected Twitter.—She was very loath to accept of the Part of Weldon in Oroonoko, and that with just Reason, as being obliged to put on Men's Cloaths—having thick Legs and Thighs, corpulent and large Posteriours;—but yet the Town (that respected her) compounded, and receiv'd her with Applause; for she was the most pleasant Creature that ever appear'd: Adding to these, that she was a fine, fair Woman, plump, full-featur'd; her Face of a fine, smooth Oval, full of beautiful, well-dispos'd Moles on it, and on her Neck and Breast—Whatever she did was not to be call'd Acting; no, no, it was what she represented: She was neither more nor less, and was the most easy Actress in the World. The late Mrs. Oldfield borrow'd something of her Manner in free Comedy;—as for Tragedy, Mrs. Verbruggen never attempted it. Melanthe was her Master-piece; and the Part of Hillaria in Tunbridge-Walks cou'd not be said to be Acted by any one but her.—Her Maiden-Name was Percival; and she was the Widow of Mr. Mountford, (who was kill'd by Lord Mohun) when Mr. Verbruggen married her.—She was the best Conversation possible; never captious, or displeas'd at any Thing but what was gross or indecent; for she was cautious, lest fiery Jack shou'd so resent it as to breed a Quarrel;—for he wou'd often say,—Dammee! tho' I don't much value my Wife, yet no Body shall affront her, by G—d; and his Sword was drawn on the least Occasion, which was much in Fashion at the latter End of King William's Reign;—at which Time I came on the Stage, when Mr. Dogget left it; and then the facetious Joe Haines was declining in Years and Reputation, tho' a good Actor and Poet, his Prologues exceeding all ever wrote.—[Vide Love and a Bottle.]
JOE HAINES is more remarkable for the witty, tho' wicked, Pranks he play'd, and for his Prologues and Epilogues, than for Acting.—He was, at first, a Dancer.—After he had made his Tour of France, he narrowly escaped being seiz'd, and sent to the Bastile, for personating an English Peer, and running 3000 Livres in Debt in Paris; but, happily landing at Dover, he went to London, where in Bartholomew-Fair, he set up a Droll-Booth, and acted a new Droll, call'd, The Whore of Babylon, the Devil, and the Pope. This was in the first Year of King James II. when Joe was sent for, and roundly admonish'd, by Judge Pollixfen for it. Joe reply'd, That he did it in Respect to his Holiness; for, whereas many ignorant People believed the Pope to be a Beast, he shew'd him to be a fine, comely old Gentleman, as he was; not with Seven Heads, and Ten Horns, as the Scotch Parsons describe him. However, this Affair spoil'd Joe's expiring Credit; for next Morning, a Couple of Bailiffs seiz'd him in an Action of 20l. as the Bishop of Ely was passing by in his Coach.—Quoth Joe to the Bailiffs,—Gentlemen, here's my Cousin, the Bishop of Ely, going into his House; let me but speak to him, and he'll pay the Debt and Charges. The Bailiffs thought they might venture that, as they were within three or four Yards of him. So, up goes Joe to the Coach, pulling off his Hat, and got close to it. The Bishop order'd the Coach to stop, whilst Joe (close to his Ear) said softly, My Lord, here are two poor Men, who have such great Scruples of Conscience, that, I fear, they'll hang themselves.—Very well, said the Bishop. So, calling to the Bailiffs, he said, You two Men, come to me To-morrow Morning, and I'll satisfy you. The Men bow'd, and went away. Joe (hugging himself with his fallacious Device) went also his Way. In the Morning, the Bailiffs (expecting the Debt and Charges) repair'd to the Bishop's; where being introduced,—Well, said the Bishop, what are your Scruples of Conscience?—Scruples! (said the Bailiffs) we have no Scruples: We are Bailiffs, my Lord, who, Yesterday, arrested your Cousin, Joe Haines, for 20l. Your Lordship promised to satisfy us To-day, and we hope your Lordship will be as good as your Word.—The Bishop, reflecting that his Honour and Name would be expos'd, (if he complied not) paid the Debt and Charges.—There were two Parts of Plays (Nol Bluff in the Old Batchelor, and Roger in Æsop) which none ever touch'd but Joe Haines.—I own, I have copied him in Roger, as I did Mr. Dogget in Fondlewife.—But, now, for another Story of him.
In the long Vacation, when Harlots, Poets, and Players, are all poor,—Joe walking in Cross-Street, by Hatton-Garden, sees a fine Venison-Pasty come out of Glassop's, a Pastry-Cook's Shop, which a Boy carried to a Gentleman's House thereby.—Joe watch'd it; and seeing a Gentleman knock at the Door, he goes to the Door, and ask'd him if he had knock'd at it: Yes, said the Gentleman; the Door is open'd.—In goes the Gentleman, and Joe after him, to the Dining-Room.—Chairs were set, and all ready for the Pasty. The Master of the House took Joe for the Gentleman's Friend, whom he had invited to Dinner; which being over, the Gentleman departed. Joe sat still.—Says the Master of the House to Joe, Sir, I thought you would have gone with your Friend!—My Friend, said Joe; alas! I never saw him before in my Life.—No, Sir, replied the other: Pray, Sir, then how came you to Dinner here?—Sir, said Joe, I saw a Venison-Pasty carried in here; and, by this Means, have din'd very heartily of it. My Name is Joe Haines, (said he) I belong to the Theatre.—Oh, Mr. Haines, (continued the Gentleman) you are very welcome; you are a Man of Wit: Come, bring t'other bottle; which being finish'd, Joe, with good Manners, departed, and purposely left his Cane behind him, which he design'd to be an Introduction to another Dinner there: For, next Day, when they were gone to Dinner, Joe knock'd briskly at the Door, to call for his Cane, when the Gentleman of the House was telling a Friend of his the Trick he play'd the Day before.—Pray call Mr. Haines in.—So, Mr. Haines, said he; sit down, and partake of another Dinner.—To tell you the Truth, said Joe, I left my Cane Yesterday on purpose: At which they all laugh'd.—Now Joe (altho' while greedily eating) was very attentive to a Discourse on Humanity begun, and continued, by the Stranger Gentleman; wherein he advanced, that every Man's Duty was to assist another, whether with Advice, Money, Cloaths, Food, or whatever else. This Sort of Principle suited Joe's End, as by the Sequel will appear. The Company broke up, and Joe, and the Gentleman, walk'd away, (Joe sighing as he went along.) The Gentleman said to him, What do you sigh for?—Dear Sir, (quoth Joe) I fear my Landlord will, this Day, seize my Goods for only a Quarter's Rent, due last Week.—How much is the Money? said the Gentleman.—Fifty Shillings, said Joe, and the Patentees owe me Ten Pounds, which will be paid next Week.—Come, said the Gentleman, I'll lend thee Fifty Shillings on your Note, to pay me faithfully in three Weeks. Which Joe, with many Promises and Imprecations, sign'd.—But Joe, thereafter, had his Eyes looking out before him; and, whenever he saw the Gentleman, would carefully avoid him; which the Gentleman one Day perceiv'd, and going a-cross Smithfield, met Joe full in the Face, and, in the Middle of the Rounds, stopp'd him. Taking him by the Collar, Sirrah, said he, pray pay me now, you impudent, cheating Dog, or I'll beat you into a Jelly.—Joe fell down on his Knees, making a dismal Outcry, which drew a Mob about them, who enquir'd into the Occasion, which was told them; and they, upon hearing it, said to the Gentleman, That the poor Man could not pay it, if he had it not.—Well, said he, let him kneel down, and eat up that thin Sirreverence, and I'll forgive him, and give up his Note.—Joe promis'd he would, and presently eat it all up, smearing his Lips and Nose with the human Conserve. The Gentleman gave him his Note; when Joe ran and embrac'd him, kissing him, and bedaubing his Face, and setting the Mob a hollowing.
The Second Part of their LIVES, with the Continuation of Joe Haines' s Pranks, the Author hopes a fresh Advance for.——In the Interim, he thanks his Friends.