There are but few places of public amusement in Antigua; no malls, or parks, or Kensington gardens,—no morning concerts, Colosseums, or exhibition-rooms,—no “Almacks” of an evening,[58] or box at the opera, where the Creole beauty may shew forth her charms with _eclât_. The Antiguan _belle_ has to trust to fortune to bring her admirers; “Unknowingly she strikes, and kills by chance,” as Dryden expresses it. A few years ago, however, there was a theatre in Antigua,[59] which now and then was frequented by a straggling company of players, who, in their trips about the West Indies, called in at Antigua to delight and surprise the inhabitants with their dramatic lore. Then “Macbeth” grasped his gory dagger,—“Hamlet” stalked about in sable suit,—“Othello” raved, or “Jaffier” stormed,—then poor “Juliet” wept, or “Desdemona” prayed, and many other heroes and heroines of the stage “mouth’d” and “saw’d the air,” with all the grace that strolling players are noted for. Their ranks augmented by some gentlemen amateur performers of Antigua, who, not content with entering the lists as knights of the “buskin and sock,” like Hercules, put on the _petticoats_, to shew, I suppose, their diversity of talents. Much cannot be said for the performance upon these occasions. One gentleman, in his metamorphosis, forgot to divest himself of his “Wellington boots,” and there was such a clattering and stamping about with him, when playing the part of the waiting woman, that I verily believed the boards were in danger. The well-known and eccentric “Romeo Coates,” as he is generally called in London, is a native of Antigua; and many and oft have been the nights, when he has made his bow before an Antiguan audience, and trusting in his histrionic powers, claimed the chaplet which Fame has woven for stage-struck heroes. The playhouse has, however, been levelled with the ground; and its site is now occupied by a very respectable private dwelling-house, in place of the shabby temple, formerly appropriated to the tragic and comic muse. Although the theatre is “no more,” Antigua is not always devoid of public exhibitions. A juggler, or a rope-dancer, now and then makes his appearance, and having procured an empty store or loft, throws his body into ten thousand different contortions, for the amusement of those who feel inclined to throw in their dollars. At other times, a dwarf, or an “infant phenomenon,” do their best to call a smile into the face of their audience; or a ship-load of _yankees_, with their stud of horses, and an “incomparable female rider,” as their play-bills have it, erect their marquee upon the barrack-ground, and for the small remuneration of a dollar, spring over the moon almost, or act the part of a spitted ox, dressed by the heat of fire-works.