'Even those very Magistrates who abet the _Stage_, discountenance the _Players_. They stigmatize their _Character_, and cramp their Freedoms. The whole Tribe of them is thrown out of all Honour and Privilege. They are neither suffer'd to be Lords, nor Gentlemen: To come within the _Senate_, or harangue the People, or so much as to be Members of a _Common-Council_. Now what Caprice and Inconsistency is this! To love what we punish, and lessen those whom we admire! To cry up the Mystery, and censure the practise; For a Man to be as it were eclips'd upon the score of Merit is certainly an odd sort of Justice! True. But the Inference lies stronger another way. What a Confession then is this of an Ill Business; when the very Excellency of it is not without Infamy? 'Since therefore Humane Prudence has thought fit to degrade the _Stage_, notwithstanding the Divertingness of it. Since Pleasure can't make them an Interest Here, nor shelter them from Censure.[483] How will They be able to stand the shock of Divine Justice, and what _Reckoning_ have they _Reason_ to expect Hereafter? 'All things consider'd 'tis no wonder such People should fall under _Possession_. God knows we have had a sad Example of this already. A certain Woman went to the _Play-House_, and brought the Devil Home with Her.[484] And when the Unclean Spirit was press'd in the _Exorcism_ and ask'd how he durst attack a Christian. I have done nothing (says he) but what I can justify. For I seiz'd her upon my own Ground. Indeed, how many Instances have we of others who have apostatiz'd from God, by this Correspondence with the Devil? What _Communion has Light with Darkness? No Man can serve two Masters_, nor have Life and Death in him at the same time. 'Will you not then avoid this Seat of Infection?[485] The very Air suffers by their Impurities; And they almost Pronounce the Plague. What tho' the performance may be in some measure pretty and entertaining? What tho' Innocence, yes and Virtue too, shines through some part of it? 'Tis not the custom to prepare Poyson unpalatable, nor make up Ratzbane with Rhubarb and Sena. No. To have the Mischief speed, they must oblige the Sense, and make the Dose pleasant. Thus the Devil throws in a Cordial Drop to make the Draught go down; And steals some few Ingredients from the _Dispensatory_ of Heaven. In short, look upon all the engaging Sentences of the Stage; Their flights of Fortitude, and Philosophy, the Loftiness of their Stile, the Musick of the Cadence, and the Finess of the Conduct; Look upon it only I say as Honey dropping from the Bowels of a Toad, or the Bag of a Spider: Let your Health over-rule your Pleasure, and don't die of a little _Liquorishness_.