udge for themselves, and would not suffer the town to
be imposed upon by scribblers. In the pit, they exerted themselves with
great spirit and vivacity; called out for the tunes of obscene songs,
talked loudly at intervals of Shakespeare and Jonson, played on their
catcalls a short prelude of terrour, clamoured vehemently for a
prologue, and clapped with great dexterity at the first entrance of the
players.

Two scenes they heard without attempting interruption; but, being no
longer able to restrain their impatience, they then began to exert
themselves in groans and hisses, and plied their catcalls with incessant
diligence; so that they were soon considered by the audience as
disturbers of the house; and some who sat near them, either provoked at
the obstruction of their entertainment, or desirous to preserve the
author from the mortification of seeing his hopes destroyed by children,
snatched away their instruments of criticism, and, by the seasonable
vibration of a stick, subdued them instantaneously to decency and
silence.

To exhilarate themselves after this vexatious defeat, they posted to a
tavern, where they recovered their alacrity, and, after two hours of
obstreperous jollity, burst out big with enterprize, and panting for
some occasion to signalize their prowess. They proceeded vigorously
through two streets, and with very little opposition dispersed a rabble
of drunkards less daring than themselves, then rolled two watchmen in
the kennel, and broke the windows of a tavern in which the fugitives
took shelter. At last it was determined to march up to a row of chairs,
and demolish them for standing on the pavement; the chairmen formed a
line of battle, and blows were exchanged for a time with equal courage
on both sides. At last the assailants were overpowered, and the
chairmen, when they knew then-captives, brought them home by force.

The young gentleman, next morning, hung his head, and was so much
ashamed of his outrages and defeat, that perhaps he might have been
checked in his first follies, had not his mother, partly in pity of his
dejection, and partly in approbation of his spirit, relieved him from
his perplexity by paying the damages privately, and discouraging all
animadversion and reproof.

This indulgence could not wholly preserve him from the remembrance of
his disgrace, nor at once restore his confidence and elation. He was for
three days silent, modest, and compliant, and thought himself neit