It is, in my opinion, a very odd spectacle to see a queen venting her passion in a disordered motion, and a little boy taking care all the while that they do not ruffle the tail of her gown.

The parts that the two persons act on the stage at the same time are very different.

The princess is afraid lest she should incur the displeasure of the king her father, or lose the hero, her lover, whilst her attendant is only concerned lest she should entangle her feet in her petticoat." In a succeeding paragraph the reader finds that a cherished nineteenth-century custom--the representing of a vast army by the employment of half-a-dozen ill-fed, unpainted supers--has at least the sanction of age: "Another mechanical method of making great men, and adding dignity to kings and queens, is to accompany them with halberts and battle-axes.

Two or three shifters of scenes, with the two candle-snuffers, make up a complete body of guards upon the English stage; and by the addition of a few porters dressed in red coats, can represent above a dozen legions.

I have sometimes seen a couple of armies drawn up together upon the stage, when the poet has been disposed to do honour to his generals.