Griffin was an inferior actor to Powell; but he was a wiser and a better man. He belonged to that class of actors whom "society" welcomed with alacrity. He was, moreover, of the class which had served in the field as well as on the stage, and when "Captain Griffin" died in Queen Anne's reign, the stage lost a respectable actor, and society a clever and a worthy member. The accessions to the Duke's Company were of more importance than those to the company of the Theatre Royal. In 1672, the two poets, Lee and Otway, tempted fortune on the stage: Lee, in one or two parts, such as the Captain of the Watch, in Payne's "Fatal Jealousy," and Duncan, in "Macbeth;" Otway as the King, in Mrs. Behn's "Forced Marriage." They both failed. Lee, one of the most beautiful of readers, lost his voice through nervousness; Otway, audacious enough at the coffee-houses, lost his confidence. There were eight other actors of the period whose success was unquestionable and well deserved. Little Bowman, who between this period and 1739, the year of his death, never failed to appear when his name was in the bills. He was a noted bell-ringer, had sung songs to Charles II., and, when "father of the stage," he exacted applause from the second George. Cademan was another of the company. Like Betterton and Cartwright, he had learnt the mystery of the book-trade before he appeared as a player. He was driven from the latter vocation through an accident. Engaged in a fencing-scene with Harris, in "The Man's the Master," he was severely wounded by his adversary's foil, in the hand and eye, and he lost power not only of action but of speech. For nearly forty years the company assigned him a modest pension; and between the benevolence of his brethren and the small profits of his publishing, his life was rendered tolerable, if not altogether happy. His comrade, Jevon, an ex-dancing master, was one of the hilarious actors. He was the original Jobson in his own little comedy, "A Devil of a Wife," which has been altered into the farce of "The Devil to Pay." He took great liberties with authors and audience. He made Settle half mad and the house ecstatic, when having, as Lycurgus, Prince of China, to "_fall on his sword_," he placed it flat on the stage, and falling over it, "_died_," according to the direction of the acting copy.[37] He took as great liberties at the coffee-house. "You are wiping your dirty boots with my clean napkin," said an offended waiter to him. "Never mind, boy," was the reply; "I'm not proud--it will do for me!" The dust of this jester lies in Hampstead churchyard.