Steele,[437] too, tells of the bad conduct of a beau, which curiously illustrates the necessity of Anne's proclamations: 'This was a very lusty Fellow, but withal a sort of Beau, who getting into one of the Side boxes on the Stage before the Curtain drew, was disposed to show the whole Audience his Activity by leaping over the Spikes; he pass'd from thence to one of the Entering Doors, where he took Snuff with a tolerable good Grace, display'd his fine Cloaths, made two or three feint Passes at the Curtain with his Cane, then faced about and appear'd at t'other Door: Here he affected to survey the whole House, bow'd and smil'd at random, and then shew'd his Teeth, which were some of them indeed very white: After this he retired behind the Curtain, and obliged us with several Views of his Person from every Opening.'

And, again, take this short sketch: 'And our rakely young Fellows live as much by their Wits as ever; and to avoid the clinking Dun of a Boxkeeper, at the End of one Act, they sneak to the opposite Side 'till the End of another; then call the Boxkeeper saucy Rascal, ridicule the Poet, laugh at the Actors, march to the Opera, and spunge away the rest of the Evening. The Women of the Town take their Places in the Pit with their wonted Assurance. The middle Gallery is fill'd with the middle Part of the City: and your high exalted Galleries are grac'd with handsome Footmen, that wear their Master's Linen.'[438]

Such then was the appearance in front of the stage; and, to thoroughly realise the scene, we must remember, en passant, that necessary individual the 'Candle Snuffer,' and those bold young women, whose class Nell Gwynne made famous, the 'Orange Wenches.'

Four or five hours in such theatres were almost insupportable without some slight refreshment, and this was supplied by these girls, who continually circulated throughout the audience. Their class is sufficiently alluded to in a passage in the Spectator, No. 141: 'A Poet sacrifices the best Part of his Audience to the Worst; and as one would think neglects the Boxes, to write to the Orange Wenches.' They seem to have fulfilled other duties besides supplying refreshment:—

Now turn, and see where loaden with her Freight,
A Damsel Stands, and Orange-wench is hight;
See! how her Charge hangs dangling by the Rim,
See! how the Balls blush o'er the Basket-brim;
But little those she minds, the cunning Belle
Has other Fish to Fry, and other Fruit to sell;
See! how she whispers yonder youthful Peer,
See! how he smiles, and lends a greedy Ear.
At length 'tis done, the Note o'er Orange wrapt
Has reach'd the Box, and lays in Lady's Lap.[439]

Bad weather occasionally militated against the poor players. 'Her Majesty's Servants at the Theatre Royal (the weather being chang'd) intend to act on Wednesdays and Fridays till Bartholomew Fair.'[440] This and bad trade made them look out for novelties, such as acting a play the characters in which were sustained entirely by women, or having amateurs on the stage. 'At the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, to morrow being Friday the 7th of July, will be reviv'd a Play call'd, The Orphan, or, the Unhappy Marriage.[441] All the Men's parts to be perform'd by young Gentlemen for their Diversion.'[442] Or they would try the effect of 'a New Prologue by a Child of 4 years of Age,' or 'a New Epilogue by Mrs. Pack in a Riding Habit, upon a Pad-Nagg representing a Town Miss Travelling to Tunbridge.'

The properties of a theatre have always been a fair whetstone for men to sharpen their humour on, and the writers of the time of Queen Anne were not behindhand in this respect. When Drury Lane was closed by order, in 1709, the Tatler (No. 42) made very merry over the miscellaneous effects:—

'Three Bottles and a half of lightning.

'One Shower of Snow in the whitest French Paper.

'Two Showers of a browner sort.