Hawksmoor

And now the Curtain was drawn to show a dark Room where some one was playing a Pack of Cards; above him some dozen Clouds were trimm'd with Black, and there was a new Moon something decay'd.

And then for a moment I was environ'd by these painted Scenes and lived among them even as I sat in the Pitt: now my Lord All-Pride leads Doll Common away, and the Scene is drawn to show a Chamber of Tortures where he says, Do you like this Ribbon (pointing to a Whip), this Cutt of the Sleeve (pointing to a Knife), this Stocking (pointing to a hanging Rope)? And I was a Child again, watching the bright World.

But the Spell broke when at this Juncture some Gallants jumped from the Pitt onto the Stage and behaved as so many Merry-Andrews among the Actors, which reduced all to Confusion. I laugh'd with them also, for I like to make Merry among the Fallen and there is pleasure to be had in the Observation of the Deformity of Things. Thus when the Play resumed after the Disturbance, it was only to excite my Ridicule with its painted Fichons, wicked Hypocrisies and villainous Customs, all depicted with a little pert Jingle of Words and a rambling kind of Mirth to make the Insipidnesse and Sterility pass. There was no pleasure in seeing it, and nothing to burden the Memory after: like a voluntarie before a Lesson it was absolutely forgotten, nothing to be remembered or repeated.

When this Masquerade was complete, the prattler Vanbrugghe led us on to the Grey Bear tavern, where the whimzey-headed and the slender-witted and the shallow-brained come to sip their Brandy and make their Chit-chat on what they have just view'd. And so sir, he cried as we waited for the Tapster, how did you like the Play?

I have forgot it, sir.

So soon?

I asked him what he said, for there was such a mish-mash of Conversation around us that I could scarcely understand him -the frequenters of Taverns have Hearts of Curd and Souls of Milk Sop, but they have Mouths like Ca

When he answered, about 15 or 16 hundred Years ago, she began to be comforted and said, Then by the grace of God it may not be true.

(Laughing). dyer. (In a low tone) Interest is the God of your World, who may be sacrificed to Hypocrisie. va

There is an uneasy Silence between them va

(He stares at Dyer) Are you not of my Mind in this at least? dyer. No, I am not of your Mind, for the Dialogue was fitted up with too much Facility. Words must be pluckt from Obscurity and nourished with Care, improved with Art and corrected with Application.

Labour and Time are the Instruments in the perfection of all Work. (Aside) Including churches. va

They stand again without speaking, only drinking va

Yesterday South Sea stock was 95 one quarter and Bank was 130! sir philip. This is strange News indeed.

CHORUS OF GENTLEMEN AND SERVANTS. What News is this? What News is this? (And then they sing)

Bankrupts, Elopements, Thefts and Lotteries Strange News from Petersburg and Flanders, Fast Mails from Frankfurt and Saxony Bring Chit-chat, Jobbing, Venery and Slanders.

Exeunt Sir Philip and Money trap, in conversation. Va