The following quotation from the first number of "The Secret Mercury," published September 9, 1702, gives a better idea of one of the Drolls or Interludes of the day than any I have previously met with: "Wednesday September 2, having _padlocked my pockets_, and trimmed myself with Hudibras from head to foot, I set out about six for Bartholomew Fair; and, having thrown away _substantial silver_ for visionary Theatrical entertainment, I made myself ready for the Farce; but I had scarce composed myself when bolts me _into the Pit_ a bully beau," &c. &c. "The curtain drew, and discovered a nation of beauish machines; their motions were so starched, that I began to question whether I had mistaken myself and Dogget's booth for a Puppet-shew. As I was debating the matter, they advanced toward the front of the stage, and making a halt began a singing so miserably, that I was forced to tune my own whistle in romance ere my brains were set strait again. All the _secret_ I could for my life discover in the whole grotesque was the consistency or drift of the piece, which I could never demonstrate to this hour. At last all the childish parade shrunk off the stage by matter and motion, and enter a _hobletehoy_ of a dance, and Dogget in old woman's petticoats and red waistcoat, as like Progue Cock as ever man saw; it would have made a Stoick split his lungs, if he had seen the temporary harlot sing and weep both at once; a true emblem of a woman's tears. When these Christmas carols were over, enter a _wooden_ horse; now I concluded we should have the ballad of Troy-town, but I was disappointed in the scene, for a dancing-master comes in, begins a complimenting the horse, and fetching me three or four run-bars with his arm (as if he would have mortified the ox at one blow) takes a frolick upon the back of it, and translates himself into cavalry at one bound: all I could clap was the _patience_ of the beast. However, having played upon him about half a quarter, the conqueror was pursued with such a clangor from the crusted clutches of the mob in the _sixpenny place_, that for five minutes together I was tossed on this dilemma, that either a man had not five senses, or I was no man. The stage was now overrun with nothing but Merry Andrews and Pickle-herrings. This Mountebank scene was removed at last, and I was full of expectation the successor would be Pills, Pots of Balsam, and Orvietan; but, alas, they were but half Empiricks, and therefore _Exeunt omnes_."