The men in the boxes were composed of two distinct classes, the “men of wit and pleasure about town,” distinguished by their Flanders lace cravats, soiled with snuff, their diamond rings, the pretended gift of a royal mistress, (_n’importe_ whether the Duchess of Portsmouth or Nell Gwynne); their uncombed wigs, whose curls descended to their waists, and the loud and careless tone in which they abused Dryden, Lee, and Otway, and quoted Sedley and Rochester;--the other class were the lovers, the gentle “squires of dames,” equally conspicuous for their white fringed gloves, their obsequious bows, and their commencing every sentence addressed to a lady, with the profane exclamation of (2) “Oh Jesu!” or the softer, but equally unmeaning one of “I beseech you, Madam,” or, “Madam, I burn(3).” One circumstance sufficiently extraordinary marked the manners of the day; females had not then found their proper level in life; they were alternately adored as goddesses, and assailed as prostitutes; and the man who, this moment, addressed his mistress in language borrowed from Orondates worshipping Cassandra, in the next accosted her with ribaldry that might put to the blush the piazzas of Covent Garden(4). (2) Vide Pope, (copying from Donne). “Peace, fools, or Gonson will for Papists seize you, If once he catch you at your Jesu, Jesu.” (3) Vide the Old Bachelor, whose Araminta, wearied by the repetition of these phrases, forbids her lover to address her in any sentence commencing with them. (4) Vide any old play you may have the patience to peruse; or, _instar omnium_, read the courtly loves of Rodolphil and Melantha, Palamede and Doratice, in Dryden’s Marriage a la Mode.