are."

I went sometimes to the chapel, with the crowd, to hear the anthem, as
the custom was; for the music was extraordinary good, and no expense
spared; and I heard there some very fine motets, the most of which were
adapted from the old Catholic music and set to new words taken from the
Protestant Scripture.

* * * * *

I went one night in August to the Duke's Theatre, as it was called, to
see a play of Sir Charles Sedley, called _The Mulberry Garden_.

This extraordinary man, with whom I had already talked on more than one
occasion, was, according to one account, the loosest man that ever
lived; and indeed the tales related of him are such that I could not
even hint at them in such a work as this. But he was now about
forty-five years old; and a thought steadier. It chanced that he and my
Lord Dorset--(who was of the same reputation, but had fought too both by
land and sea)--were present with ladies, of whom the Duchess of
Cleveland was one, in one of the boxes that looked upon the stage; and I
was astonished at the behaviour of them all. Sedley himself, who
appeared pretty drunk, was the noisiest person in the house; he laughed
loudly at any of his own lines that took his fancy, and conversed
equally loudly with his friends when they did not. As for the play it
was of a very poor kind, and gave me no pleasure at all; for there was
but one subject in it from beginning to end, and that was the passion
which the author would call love. There were lines too in it of the
greatest coarseness, and at these he laughed the loudest. He had a sharp
bold face, of an extraordinary insolence; and he appeared to take the
highest delight in the theme of his play--(which he had written for the
King's Theatre a good while before)--and which concerned nothing else
but the love-adventures of two maids that had an over-youthful fop for a
father.

When the play was over, and I going out to my little coach that I used,
I found that the Duchess of Cleveland's coach stopped the way, in spite
of the others waiting behind, and Her Grace not come. However there was
nothing to be done: and I waited. Presently out they came, Sedley
leading the way with great solemnity, who knocked against me as I stood
there, and asked what the devil I did in his road.

I saluted them as ironically as I could; and begged his pardon.

"I had no idea, Sir Charles," said I, "that the theatre and street were
yours as well as t