ck on which I split. I never got over the patronage of
the Fantadlin family. It became the vogue to abuse the theatre and
declare the performers shocking. An equestrian troupe opened a circus
in the town about the same time, and rose on my ruins. My house was
deserted; my actors grew discontented because they were ill paid; my
door became a hammering-place for every bailiff in the county; and my
wife became more and more shrewish and tormenting, the more I wanted
comfort.

The establishment now became a scene of confusion and peculation. I Was
considered a ruined man, and of course fair game for every one to pluck
at, as every one plunders a sinking ship. Day after day some of the
troupe deserted, and like deserting soldiers, carried off their arms
and accoutrements with them. In this manner my wardrobe took legs and
walked away; my finery strolled all over the country; my swords and
daggers glittered in every barn; until at last my tailor made "one fell
swoop," and carried off three dress coats, half a dozen doublets, and
nineteen pair of flesh-colored pantaloons.

This was the "be all and the end all" of my fortune. I no longer
hesitated what to do. Egad, thought I, since stealing is the order of
the day, I'll steal too. So I secretly gathered together the jewels of
my wardrobe; packed up a hero's dress in a handkerchief, slung it on
the end of a tragedy sword, and quietly stole off at dead of
night--"the bell then beating one,"--leaving my queen and kingdom to
the mercy of my rebellious subjects, and my merciless foes, the
bum-bailiffs.

Such, sir, was the "end of all my greatness." I was heartily cured of
All passion for governing, and returned once more into the ranks. I had
for some time the usual run of an actor's life. I played in various
country theatres, at fairs, and in barns; sometimes hard pushed;
sometimes flush, until on one occasion I came within an ace of making
my fortune, and becoming one of the wonders of the age.

I was playing the part of Richard the Third in a country barn, and
Absolutely "out-Heroding Herod." An agent of one of the great London
theatres was present. He was on the lookout for something that might be
got up as a prodigy. The theatre, it seems, was in desperate
condition--nothing but a miracle could save it. He pitched upon me for
that miracle. I had a remarkable bluster in my style, and swagger in my
gait, and having taken to drink a little during my troubles, my voice
was som