As our _wit_, generally speaking is debauch’d, so our wine, the parent of it, is sophisticated all over the _town_; and as we never had more _plays_ in the _two houses_, and more wine in city than at present, so we were never encumber’d with worse of the two sorts than now. As for the latter, we sell that for claret which has not a drop of the juice of the grape in it, but is downright cyder. The corporation does not stop short here, but our cyder, instead of apples, is made of turnips. Who knows where the cheat will conclude? perhaps the next generation will debauch our very turnips. ’Tis well, Mr. _Haines_, you dy’d when you did, for that unhappy place, where you have so often exerted your talent, I mean _Smithfield_, has fallen under the city magistrate’s displeasure; so that now St. _George_ and the _Dragon_, the _Trojan_ horse, and _Bateman_’s ghost, the _Prodigal Son_, and _Jeptha_’s _Daughter_: In short, all the drolls of glorious memory, are routed, defeated, and sent to grass, without any hopes of a reprieve. Next to _plays_, we have been over-run, in these times of publick ferment and distraction, with certain wicked things, called _pamphlets_; and some scriblers that shall be nameless, have writ _pro_ and _con_ upon the same subject, at least six times since last spring. Both nations are at _bay_, and like two _bull-dogs_ snarl at one another, yet have not thought fit, as yet, to come to actual blows. What the event will be, we cannot prophesy at this distance, but every little corporation in the kingdom has laid _Lewis le Grand_ upon his back, and as good as call’d him perjur’d knave and villain. However, ’tis the hardest case in the world if we miscarry; our _Grub-street_ pamphleteers advise the shires and boroughs what sort of members to chuse; the shires and boroughs advise their representatives what course to steer in parliament; and the senators, no doubt on’t, will advise his majesty what ministers to rely on, and how to behave himself in this present conjuncture. Thus, advice, you see, like malt-tickets, circulates plentifully about the kingdom; so that if we fail in our designs, after all, the wicked can never say, ’twas for want of advice. We forgot to tell you, Mr. _Haines_, that since you left this upper world, your life has been written by a brother-player, who pretends he received all his _memoirs_ from your own mouth, a little before you made a leap into the dark; and really you are beholden to the fellow, for he makes you a master of arts at the university, tho’ you never took a degree there. That, and a thousand stories of other people he has father’d upon you, and the truth on’t is, the adventures of thy life, if truly set down, are so romantick, that few besides thy acquaintance would be able to distinguish between the history and the fable. But let not this disturb the serenity of your soul, Mr. _Haines_, for after this rate the lives of all illustrious persons, whether ancient or modern, have been written.