Their liveries were, perhaps, not so gorgeous as in the later Georgian time, but they liked fine clothes. 'Her footmen, as I told you before, are such Beaus, that I do not much care for asking them Questions; when I do, they answer me with a sawcy Frown, and say that every thing, which I find fault with, was done by my Lady Mary's Order. She tells me that she intends they shall wear Swords with their next Liveries, having lately observed the Footmen of two or three Persons of Quality hanging behind the Coach with Swords by their Sides.'[97] [Footnote 97: _Spectator_, No. 299.] One part of their duty was to call on their master's or mistress's acquaintances, and ask, with their compliments, 'How do ye?'--equivalent to our sending in a card; and this custom is frequently mentioned in contemporary literature. 'And I'll undertake, if the How d'ye Servants of our Women were to make a Weekly Bill of Sickness,' &c.,[98] 'While she sleeps I'm Employ'd in Howdee's,'[99] 'We have so many come with How-dee's, I never mind 'em.' [Footnote 98: _Ibid._ 143.] [Footnote 99: _The Basset Table_, sc. i., ed. 1706.] The upper gallery at the play was theirs by prescriptive right; their verdict greatly influenced the success or failure of a play, and they were worth conciliating. Pinkethman, who played to the gallery, knew this, and in Mrs. Centlivre's comedy of 'The Basset Table,' where he took a footman's part, spoke the prologue, in which he not only addressed them in preference to the other portion of the audience, but showed his power over them by making them rattle their sticks and clap their hands at his command. Therefore dear Brethren (since I am one of you) Whether adorn'd in Grey, Green, Brown or Blue, This day stand all by me, as I will fall by you; And now to let-- The poor Pit see how _Pinky's_ Voice Commands, Silence--Now rattle all your Sticks and clap your grimy Hands. I greet your Love, and let the vainest Author show, } Half this command on cleaner hands below, } Nay, more to prove your Interest, let this Play live by you. } So may you share good Claret with your Masters, Still free in your Amours from their Disasters; Free from poor Housekeeping, where Peck is under Locks. Free from Cold Kitchings, and no Christmas Box: So may no long Debates i' th' House of Commons, Make you in the Lobby starve, when hunger summons; But may your plenteous Vails come flowing in, Give you a lucky Hit, and make you Gentlemen; And thus preferr'd, ne'er fear the World's Reproaches, But shake your Elbows with my Lord, and keep your Coaches.