In December, 1708 he made his fourth and (as it proved) final try for fame and fortune in the theatre with _The fine Lady's Airs,_ He claims that it was well received (see Dedication) and he had his third night, but D'Urfey, whose enmity Baker had incurred, says (Pref. to _The Modern Prophets_) that the play was "hist," and _The British Apollo_, which carried on a feud with Baker in August and September of 1709, makes the same assertion in several places.[5] This, to be sure, is testimony from enemies. But obviously the play was far less liked than _Tunbridge-Walks_ had been, and thus (to compare a small man with a great one) Baker's experience was something like Congreve's, when, after the great success of _Love for Love, The Way of the World_ won only a tepid reception. And it is chiefly Congreve whom he takes for his model; the play is an attempt at a level of comedy higher than Baker had aimed at before. He does not always succeed: Congreve's kind of writing was not natural to Baker, and the lines sometimes labor. Still, the Bleinheim-Lady Rodomont duel has merit; and Sir Harry Sprightly (though of course he owes something to Farquhar's Wildair), Mrs. Lovejoy, and Major Bramble are all in Baker's best manner. On the whole it was a better play than the audience in 1708 deserved. Presumably Baker felt this, for he wrote no more for the stage. Most of the account of Baker's life pulled together in the DNB article on him has a decidedly apocryphal ring to it. The statement (first made in _The Poetical Register_, 1719) that he was "Son of an Eminent Attorney of the City of London" sounds like something manufactured out of whole cloth by a compiler who in fact had no idea whose son Baker was. The _Biographia Dramatica_ had "heard" that the effeminate Maiden in _Tunbridge-Walks_ was absolutely, and without exaggeration, a portrait of the author's own former character, whose understanding having at length pointed out to him the folly he had so long been guilty-of, he reformed it altogether ... and wrote this character, in order to ... warn others from that rock of contempt, which he had himself for some time been wrecked on. Nothing on its face more improbable than this could well be imagined. And that Baker could have "died ... of that loathsome Distemper the _Morbus Pediculosus_" (sketch of him in _Scanderbeg,_ 1747) does not sound likely, either.[6]