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strained to the arch sneer, or the suppressed halflaugh, widened to the broad grin, or extended to the downright burst of loud laughter, the audience was sure to accompany her. He must have been more or less than man, that could be grave, when Clive was disposed to be merry.

After Mrs. Clive retired from the stage, she resided near Strawberry Hill, not far from Twickenham; and her company was always courted by women of the highest rank, to whom she rendered herself very agreeable. Her conversation was a mixture of uncommon vivacity, droll mirth, and honest bluntness; and she delighted in all opportunities of being universally serviceable. This amiable woman died at her house, near Strawberry Hill, December 6, 1785, aged 74, and lies buried in Westminster Abbey.

JOHN KANE, THE COMEDIAN. This facetious votary of Thalia, when informed of the death of O'Reilly, who was a favourite comedian in Dublin, exclaimed,“ Dead! poo! You mane dead drunk; faith and troth, no man living has been so often dead as poor O'Reilly.” But having been at length assured

that he was bona fide gone, he cried, “ By the powers, he'll never forgive me, he'll lay his death at my door,- I know he will, for I was the first man that taught him to drink whiskey !"


IN 1772, the King of Denmark prohibited hissing, or any equivalent marks of disapprobation, in the Copenhagen Theatres. This despotic order was occasioned by a riot at one of the houses, which arose from an author having exposed a critic on the stage, who had treated his productions with unmerited severity.


The adherence of the players, with scarcely an exception, to the cause of Charles I. has always been strongly insisted upon by our dramatic historians, and, no doubt, with perfect justice. Were the following paragraph, however, to be taken in any other light than that of a mere joke, it would tend to throw great doubt upon this asserted loyalty. It is extracted from a Mercurius Familosus of September 12, 1655. This was an indecent, bantering kind of paper, published during Cromwell's usurpation.

“ The players at the Red Bull, and all the jack puddings at Southwark fair, last Friday, listed themselves for Soldiers. A little after a great rout was given, and some prisoners taken, which, presently paying their ransom, were released.

“ So were the puddings and the fiddlers,
The actors, and the bey-down diddlers,
Put by their action and their parts,
And led away with heavy hearts ;
The reason was, as some do say,
'Cause they can't work, but live by play.


The Play-house thunder was formed much in the same way, and from the same materials, from the earliest ages of the English drama, down to the reign of George the Third, as will appear from the following lines of the prologue to

Every Man in his Humour.”

No creaking throne comes down, the boys to please;
Nor nimble squib is seen, to make afeard
The gentlewomen; nor rolld bullet heard
To say, it thunders, nor tempestuous drum
Rumbles, to tell you when the storm is come.

The theatrical artillery of the sky appears,


in fact, during this long period of time, to have received no improvement whatever, if we except, that of which the testy critic, John Dennis, claimed the invention. We are, unfortunately, ignorant in what this invention consisted; but so jealous was Dennis of the honour which this famous invention could not fail to confer


the happy wit from whose brain it emanated, that we are informed by Pope, (whose testimony however, in a matter in which Dennis is concerned, should be received cum grano salis,) that the critic, happening to be present at the representation of a tragedy, in which the audience were treated with an unusually loud clap of thunder, exclaimed, with a vehemence proportioned to the importance of the subject, “ By G-d, that's my thunder."

When the fashion of representing heavy showers of rain, by rattling a vast quantity of peas together in rollers, first came into use, is also a point that remains to be settled by the stage-historian of future times. Perhaps we are indebted for this ingenious contrivance, to that same profound critic, whose thunder was so peculiarly his own.


On Saturday night, January 17, 1816, while Miss Kelly was performing the part of Nan, in “ Modern Antiques," at Drury Lane Theatre, a ruffian, sitting in the centre of the pit, took a pistol from his pocket, and discharged it at her. The greatest alarm and confusion was excited: the audience cried out" Seize the villain-take him out!"--The police officers attending the house secured, and, after a violent resistance, dragged him out of the house.

It was with some difficulty that Miss Kelly finished acting her character in the farce. On her being informed of the young

man's name, she recollected that it was the same name she had received several letters by, in the form of love-letters; some of them amounted to threatening letters if she did not accept his offers, &c. She, not knowing the person, treated the whole as a matter of indifference.

At the conclusion of the Farce, several voices called for Mr. Rae, when that gentleman appeared and said

“ Ladies and Gentlemen,-The young man who fired the pistol has been taken to the Public-office, Bow-street, and

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