wrecked and drowned in the waters of the hundred: AND concerning the keeping and preservation of the statutes of the queen and her kingdom in the maritime parts of the said hundred: AND concerning the wreck of the sea: AND to exercise the office

of coroner, according to the statutes in the third and fourth years of Edward the First: AND to proceed according to the statutes concerning the damage of goods upon the sea in the 27th year of Edward III.: "AND you the aforesaid sir Hobbie, our vice-admiral, commissary, and deputy in the office of viceadmiralty, in and over the aforesaid hundred of Milton, we appoint, recommending to you and your locum tenens firmness in the execution of your duty, and requiring you yearly in Easter and Michaelmas term to account to the Court of Admiralty your proceedings in the premises."

"Given at Greenwich under our great seal the twelfth day of the month of July in the year of our Lord from the incarnation one thousand five hundred and eighty-five, and in the twenty-seventh year of the reign of our most serene lady Elizabeth by the grace of God queen of England, France, and Ireland, defender of the faith, &c." The " great seal" above mentioned is the great seal of the admiralty, engraved on a preceding page, and as there represented, of the exact size of the seal appended to the commission.

SIR EDWARD HOBY for a Lease of the custodie of MILTON and MARDEN.

The Queene's Ma'tie by warrant of the late Lord Treasourer the sixt daye of July, in the xiijth Yeare of her Raigne, did graunt Custodia of the Mannor of Milton, and the Hundred of Milton, and Marden, &c. vnto Thomas Randolphe for Threescore years, yieldinge 120li. yearly rent and vjs. viijd increase of the rent. Prouiso semper q'd si aliquis alius plus dare voluerit de incr'o per Annum pro Custod. predict sine fraude vel malo ingenio Quod tunc idem Thomas Randolphe tantum pro eadem soluere teneatur si Custod. voluerit her'e sup'dict.

The Lease is by meane_conveyance colorably sett over vnto one Thomas Bodley, but the interest is in one Richard Potman, Attorney towards the Lawe.

Sr Edward Hoby knight the xxvjth of Maye xlmo Regine nunc, before the nowe Lord Treasourer and the Barons of the Exchequer did personally cum, and in wrytinge under his hande, Offer, sine fraude vel malo ingenio, to increase the Queene's rent 100. vearly, which sayd Offer was accepted and attested, with Mr. Baron Clarke's hande redy to be inrolled.

Whereupon the sayd Sr Edward Hoby doth humbly praye that Yor Lo'pp wilbe

From danger of pursuit.

Bell. Would it were day!

My apprehension is so full of horror;

I think each sound, the air's light motion
Makes in these thickets, is my Uncle's voice,
Threat'ning our ruins.

Worth. Let his rage persist

To enterprise a vengeance, we'll prevent it.
Wrapt in the arms of Night, that favours Lovers,
We hitherto have 'scaped his eager search:
And are arrived near London. Sure I hear
The Bridge's cataracts, and such-like murmurs
As night and sleep yield from a populous number.

Bell. But when will it be day? the light hath com

Worth. Where's my Love?

(Exit, as losing him.)

Dart from thy silver crescent one fair beam
Through this black air, thou Governess of Night,
To shew me whither she is led by fear.
Thou envious Darkness, to assist us here,
And then prove fatal I

(Within.) Follow, follow, follow.

Worth. Silence your noise, ye clamorous ministers Of this injustice. Bellamie is lost; She's lost to me. Not her fierce Uncle's rage, Who whets your eager aptness to pursue me With threats or promises; nor his painted terrors Of laws' severity; could ever work Upon the temper of my resolute soul To soften it to fear, till she was lost.

Not all the illusive horrors, which the night

Presents unto th' imagination,

Taffright a guilty conscience, could possess me,
While I possess'd my Love. The dismal shrieks
Of fatal owls, and groans of dying mandrakes,
Whilst her soft palm warm'd mine, were music to me.-
Their light appears.-No safety does consist
In passion or complaints. Night, let thine arme
Again assist me; and, if no kind minister

Of better fate guide me to Bellamie,

Be thou eternal.

(Within.) Follow, follow, follow.

Bellamie, alone, in Marybone Park.

Bell. The day begins to break; and trembling Light, As if affrighted with this night's disaster, Steals thro the farthest air, and by degrees Salutes my weary longings.-O, my Worthgood, Thy presence would have checkt these passions; And shot delight thro' all the mists of sadness, To guide my fear safe thro' the paths of danger : Now fears assault me.-'Tis a woman's voice. She sings; and in her music's chearfulness Seems to express the freedom of a heart, Not chain'd to any passions.

(A noise of Pursuers. She re-enters.) Duch. Oh fear, what art thou? lend me wings to Ay;

Direct me in this plunge of misery.
Nature has taught the Child obedience;

Thou hast been humble to thy mother's wish.
O let me kiss these duteous lips of thine,
That would not kill thy mother with a cry.
Now forward, whither heav'n directs; for I
Can guide no better than thine infancy.
Here are two Pilgrims bound for Lyon Quay,*
And neither knows one footstep of the way.
(Noise again heard.)

Duch. Return you? then 'tis time to shift me hence. (Exit, and presently Re-enters.)

Duch. Thus far, but heav'n knows where, we have
escaped

The eager pursuit of our enemies,
Having for guidance my attentive fear.

Still I look back, still start my tired feet,
Which never till now measured London street:
My Honours scorn'd that custom; they would ride;
Now forced to walk, more weary pain to bide.
Thou shalt not do so, child; I'll carry thee
In Sorrow's arms to welcome misery.
Custom must steel thy youth with pinching want,
That thy great birth in age may bear with scant
Sleep peaceably, sweet duck, and make no noise:
Methinks each step is death's arresting voice.
We shall meet nurse anon; a dug will come,
To please my quiet infant: when, nurse, when?

Sir,-Conjecturing that some slight notices of the early use of play-bills by our comedians might be interesting to your readers, allow me respectfully to request the insertion of the following:

So early as 1587, there is an entry in the Stationers' books of a license granted to John Charlewood, in the month of October, "by the whole consent of the assistants, for the onlye ymprinting of all maner of bills for players. Provided that if any trouble arise herebye, then Charlewoode to bear the charges." Ames, in his Typogr. Antiq., p. 342, referring to a somewhat later date, states, that James Roberts, who printed in quarto several of the dramas written by the immortal Shakspeare, also "printed bills for the players;" the license of the Stationers' Company had then probably devolved to him. The announcements of the evening's or rather afternoon's entertainment was not circulated by the medium of a diurnal newspaper, as at present, but broadsides were pasted up at the corners of the streets to attract the passerby. The puritanical author of a "Treatise against Idleness, Vaine-playes, and Interludes," printed in black letter, without date, but possibly anterior to 1587, proffers an admirable illustration of the practice.

They use," says he, in his tirade against the players," to set up their bills upon postes some certain dayes before, to admonish the people to make resort to their theatres, that they may thereby be the better furnished, and the people prepared to fill their purses with their treasures." The whimsical John Taylor, the water-poet, under the head of Wit and Mirth, also alludes to the custom. "Master Nat. Field, the player, riding up Fleet-street at a great pace, a gentleman called him, and asked what play was played that day. He being angry to be stay'd on so frivolous a

demand, answered, that he might see what play was plaied on every poste. I cry your mercy, said the gentleman, I took you for a poste, you rode so fast."

It may naturally be inferred, that the emoluments of itinerant players could not afford the convenience of a printed bill, and hence from necessity arose the practice of announcing the play by beat of drum. Will. Slye, who attended Kempe in the provincial enactment of his "Nine Men of Gotham," is figured with a drum. Parolles, in Shakspeare's "All's Well that ends Well," alludes to this occupation of some of Will. Slye's fellows, "Faith, sir, he has led the drum before the English comedians."

The long detailed titles of some of the early quarto plays induce a supposition, that the play-bills which introduced them to public notice were similarly extended. The "pleasant conceited Comedy," and "the Bloody Tragedy," were equally calculated to attract idling gazers on the bookstalls, or the "walks at St. Paul's," and to draw gaping crowds about some vociferous Autolycus, who was probably an underling belonging to the company, or a servant to one of the players; for, as they ranked as gentlemen, each forsooth had his man. A carping satirical writer, who wrote anonymously Notes from Black friers," 1617, presents some traces of a play-bill crier of that period.

"Prithee, what's the play?
The first I visited this twelvemonth day.
They say- A new invented boy of purle,
That jeoparded his neck to steale a girl
Of twelve; and lying fast impounded for't,
Has hither sent his bearde to act his part,
Against all those in open malice bent,
That would not freely to the theft consent:
Faines all to 's wish, and in the epilogue
Goes out applauded for a famous-rogue.'
-Now hang me if I did not look at first,
For some such stuff, by the fond-people's thrust."

In 1642, the players, who till the subversion of the kingly prerogative in the preceding year, basked in the sunshine of court favour, and publicly acknowledged the patronage of royalty, provoked, by their loyalty, the vengeance of the stern unyielding men in power. The lords and commons, assembled on the second day of September in the former year, suppressed stage plays, during these calamitous times, by the following

Ordinance.

"Whereas the distressed estate of Ireland, steeped in her own blood, and the

distracted estate of England, threatened with a cloud of blood, by a Civil Warre; call for all possible meanes to appease and avert the wrath of God, appearing in these judgments; amongst which, fasting and prayer having been often tried to be very effectuall, have bin lately, and are still enjoyned: And whereas public sports doe not well agree with public calamities, nor publike Stage Playes with the seasons of humiliation, this being an exercise of sad and pious solemnity, and the other spectacles of pleasure, too commonly expressing lascivious mirth and levitie: It is therefore thought fit, and ordeined by the Lords and Commons in this Parliament assembled, that while these sad causes, and set times of humiliation doe continue, publike Stage Playes shall cease, and bee forborne. Instead of which, are recommended to the people of this land, the profitable and seasonable considerations of repentance, reconciliation, and peace with God, which probably may produce outward peace and prosperity, and bring againe times of joy and gladnesse to these nations."

The tenour of this ordinance was strictly enforced; many young and vigorous actors joined the king's army, in which for the most part they obtained commissions, and others retired on the scanty pittances they had earned, till on the restoration, the theatre burst forth with new effulgence. The play-bill that announced the opening of the new theatre, in Drury-lane, April 8, 1663, has been already printed in the Every-Day Book. The actors' names were then, for the first time, affixed to the characters they represented; and, to evince their loyalty, "Vivat Rex et Regina," was appended at the foot of the bills, as it continues to this day.

In the reign of the licentious Charles II., wherein monopolies of all kinds were granted to court favourites, licenses were obtained for the sole printing of play-bills. There is evidence in Bagford's Collections, Harl. MSS. No. 5910, vol. ii., that in August, 1663, Roger L'Estrange, as surveyor of the imprimery and printing presses, had the "sole license and grant of printing and publishing all ballads, plays, &c. not previously printed, play-bills, &c." These privileges he sold to operative print

ers.

When that license ceased, I have yet

possession, had W. R. in the upper corners, as those printed in the reign of Charles II., had C. R., the royal arms being in the

centre.

The luxurious mode of printing in alternate black and red lines, was adopted in Cibber's time; the bills of Covent-garden theatre were generally printed in that manner. The bills of Drury-lane theatre, within the last ten years, have issued from a private press, set up in a room below the stage of that theatre. The bills for the royal box, on his majesty's visit to either theatre, are printed on white satin.

Connected with these notices of playbills, are the means by which they were dispersed. A century ago, they were sold in the theatres by young women, called "orange-girls," some of whom, Sally Harris and others, obtained considerable celebrity; these were succeeded by others, who neither coveted nor obtained notoriety. The "orange-girls" have gone out, and staid married women, who pay a weekly stipend to the box-lobby fruit-woman, now vend play-bills in the theatre, but derive most of their emolument from the sale of the "book of the play," or "the songs of the evening. The old cry about the streets," Choice fruit, and a bill of the play-Drury-lane or Covent-garden," is almost extinct; the barrow-women are obliged to obtain special permission to remain opposite some friendly shopkeeper's aoor; and the play-bills are chiefly hawked by little beggarly boys. I am, sir, &c.

March, 1827.

WILL O' THE WISP.

THE LINNET FANCY.

To the Editor of the Table Book.

It is my fantasie to have these things,
For they amuse me in my moody hours:
Their voices waft my soul into the woods:
Where bends th' enamour'd willow o'er the stream,
They make sweet melody.

Of all the earthly things by which the brain of man is twisted and twirled, heated and cooled, fancy is the most powerful. Like a froward wife, she invariably leads him by the nose, and almost every man is in some degree ruled by her. One fancies a horse, another an ass-one a dog, another a rabbit-one's delight is in dress, another's in negligence-one is a lover of flowers, another of insects-one's mind runs or a pigeon, another's on a hawk

one fancies himself sick, the doctor fancies he can cure him: death-that stern realitysettles the matter, by fancying both. One, because he has a little of this life's evil assail him, fancies himself miserable, another, as ragged as a colt, fancies himself happy. One, as ugly as sin, and as hideous as death, fancies himself handsomeanother, a little higher than six-penn'orth of halfpence, fancies himself a second Saul. In short, it would take a monthly part of the Table Book to enumerate the different vagaries of fancy-so multifarious are her forms. Leaving this, proceed we to one of the fancies which amuse and divert the mind of man in his leisure and lonely hours-the "Linnet Fancy." "Linnet fancy !" I think I hear some taker-up of the Table Book say, "What's in a linnet?-rubbish

A bird that, when caught,

May be had for a groat."

Music! I answer-melody, unrivalled melody-equal to Philomel's, that ever shebird of the poets.-I wish they would call things by their proper names; for, after all, it is a cock-hens never make harmonious sounds. The fancy is possessed but by a few, and those, generally, of the "lower orders"-the weavers and cobblers of Whitechapel and Spitalfields, for instance. A good bird has been known to fetch ten sovereigns. I have frequently seen three and four given for one.

Whence the song of the linnet was obtained I cannot tell; but, from what I have heard the tit-lark and sky-lark do, I incline to believe that a good deal of theirs is in the song of the linnet. This song consists of a number of jerks, as they are called, some of which a bird will dwell on, and time with the most beautiful exactness : this is termed a "weighed bird." Others rattle through it in a hurried manner, and take to what is termed battling; these are birds often "sung" against others. It is with them as in a party where many are inclined to sing, the loudest and quickest tires them out; or, as the phrase is, "knocks them down." These jerks are as under. Old fanciers remember more, and regret the spoliation and loss of the good old strain. I have heard some of them say, that even larks are not so good as they were forty years ago. The reader must not suppose that the jerks are warbled in the apple-pie order in which he sees them here: the birds put them forth as they please: good birds always finish them.