When the fashion of patronising the folly of pantomimes came in, Cibber reluctantly produced one at Drury Lane, but only "as crutches to the plays." In the regular drama itself, it seemed immaterial to him what he acted, so that the piece was well supported; and accordingly when the "Orphan" was revived, and the town had just been falsely told that Cibber was dead, "I quietly stole myself," he says, "into the part of the Chaplain, which I had not been seen in for many years before;" and as the audience received him with delight, Colley was satisfied and triumphant. In the first season the poets were less successful than the players; Johnson's "Wife's Relief,"[94] and Mrs. Centlivre's "Perplexed Lovers," were failures. But the lady fell with some _éclat_. The epilogue produced more sensation than the play. Prince Eugene was then in England, and to Mrs. Oldfield were entrusted lines complimentary to the military talents of the Prince, and his brother in arms, the Duke of Marlborough. Political feuds were then so embittered, that the managers were afraid to allow the epilogue to be spoken; but on the second night, they fortified themselves by the Chamberlain's licence, and brave Mistress Oldfield delivered it, in spite of menacing letters addressed to her. The piece fell; but the authoress printed it, with a tribute of rhymed homage to the prince, who acknowledged the same by sending her a handsome and heavy gold snuff-box, with this inscription:--"The present of his Highness Prince Eugene of Savoy to Susanna Centlivre." Those heavy boxes--some of them furnished with a tube and spring for shooting the snuff up the nose, were then in fashion, and prince could hardly give more fitting present to poetess than a snuff-box, for which-- "Distant climes their various arts employ, To adorn and to complete the modish toy. Hinges with close-wrought joints from Paris come, Pictures dear bought from Venice and from Rome. * * * * * Some think the part too small of modish sand, Which at a niggard pinch they can command. Nor can their fingers for that task suffice, Their nose too greedy, not their hand too nice, To such a height with these is fashion grown, They feed their very nostrils with a spoon." So sang the Rev. Samuel Wesley, in his somewhat indelicate satire on snuff, addressed to his sister, Keziah. Mrs. Centlivre's box probably figured at Drury Lane, and in very good company, with other boxes carried by ladies; for, says the poet-- "They can enchant the fair to such degree, Scarce more admired could French romances be, Scarce scandal more beloved or darling flattery; Whether to th' India House they take their way, Loiter i' the Park, or at the toilet stay, Whether at church they shine, or sparkle at the play."