was at a coffee-house, when, hearing the clock strike eleven, he abruptly rose and paid his reckoning an acquaintance of his, sitting by him, asked, "What is the matter, Clough; your hour is not come yet, you never stir till one?" -Ay," replied Clough, "but do you not know that there is business to be done to-morrow, and Ned Shuter and I are to attend?" Ned, who had been up all night, with a jovial party, was only in his first sleep when Clough called on him, and could not be prevailed upon to rise: Clough set off for the scene of pleasure, by himself, vociferating loudly, "Was there ever such a fellow? He has no more taste than a Hottentot!" Clough's taste, after all, we believe, was not singular.

A BLIND TRAGEDIAN.

IN a Wolverhampton Chronicle of December, 1792, the following paragraph appeared :

"One Briscoe, the manager of a small theatrical company, now in Staffordshire, though stone blind, plays all the heroes in his tragedies, and lovers in genteel comedies!"

MATTHEW LOCKE.

THIS celebrated composer of the music in

"Macbeth," was, in his early days, a singing boy in Exeter cathedral, in the organ loft of which, on the stone-screen, his name is thus inscribed, "MATTHEW LOCKE, 1638." The characters are still distinctly legible, and their apparent antiquity leaves no doubt that they were cut by the young musician.

G. F. COOKE AND THE DIRTY BEAU.

AFTER performing, one evening, at Manchester, Cooke repaired to a small tavern, near the Theatre, in company with a friend: mirth and goodhumour prevailed till twelve o'clock, when his friend perceiving, as he thought, a something lurking in his eye which foretold a storm, anxiously endeavoured to get him home before it burst forth. The importunity of his friend, instead of having the desired effect, precipitated what he had foreseen; with a haughty, supercilious look, he said, "I see what you are about, you hypocritical scoundrel! Am I, George Frederick Cooke, to be controlled by such a wouldbe-puritan as you? I'll teach you to dictate to a tragedian!"-then pulling off his coat, and holding his fist in a menacing attitude, “ Come out,” said he," thou prince of deceivers !-come out,

I say!" With some difficulty he was pacified, and resumed his coat.

There was a large fire in the room, before which stood a figure with his skirts under each arm, a pitiful imitation of buckism, very deficient in cleanliness and costume; his face was grimy, and his neckcloth of the same tint; which, nevertheless, was rolled in various folds about his throat; his hair was matted, and turned up under a worn-out hat, with narrow brims, conceitedly placed on one side of his head. Thus equipped, the fop straddled before the fire, which he completely monopolized.

At length he caught the eye of Cooke, who, in silent amazement, for the space of half a minute examined him from top to toe; then turning to his friend, he burst into a horse laugh, and roared out, "Beau Nasty, by Heaven!"

Perhaps intimidated by Cooke's former bluster, this insensible puppy took little notice. Cooke now rose from his seat, and taking up the skirts of his own coat in imitation of the beau, turned his back to the fire; and approaching him nearer, as if he had some secret to communicate, whispered, though loud enough for every one to hear, "Pray, sir, how is soap?"-"Soap!"-"Yes, sir,

soap-they say it is coming down."-"I am glad of it."-" Indeed, sir, you have cause, if one may judge from your appearance." Here was a general laugh, which the beau seemed not to regard; but, nodding his head, and hitting his boots with a small rattan, rang the bell with an air of importance, and inquired if he could have any thing for supper. "What do you think," said Cooke, "of a roasted puppy? because," taking up the poker, "I will spit you, and roast you in a minute." This had a visible effect upon the dirty beau; he retreated towards the door, Cooke following with the poker, exclaiming, "Avaunt, and quit my sight; thy face is dirty, and thy hands unwashed: avaunt! avaunt! I say:"-then, replacing the poker, and returning to his seat, he continued, "Being gone, I am a man again.”

MACKLIN'S DEFINITION OF ESQUIRE.

MACKLIN, going to insure some property, was asked by the clerk how he would please to have his name entered: "Entered!" replied Macklin; "why I am only plain Charles Macklin, a vagabond by Act of Parliament: but, in compliment to the times, you may set me down Charles

Macklin, Esquire, as they are now synonymous terms."

THE MAIN CHANCE.

WHEN Whitley, manager of the Nottingham company, was enacting Richard III. he shewed a tolerable proof of having constantly an eye to his interest and to his audience. In the character of the crook-backed tyrant, he exclaimed:

"Hence, babbling dreams! you threaten here in vain," (That man in the brown wig there, has got into the pit without paying,)

"Richard's himself again !"

LAW, AND THE SCOTTISH THANE.

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ONE evening, during the representation of "Macbeth," an eminent special pleader graced the boxes of Drury Lane Theatre, to see it performed. When the hero questions the Witches, as to what they are doing; they answer a deed without a name." Our counsellor, whose attention was at that moment directed more to Coke upon Littleton than to Shakspeare, catching, however, the words in the play, repeated, "A deed without a name !→why, 'tis void."

TRAGEDY AND COMEDY.

ROUSSEAU makes this distinction between tra