Some Years ago, I was at the Tragedy of Mackbeth, and unfortunately placed my self under a Woman of Quality that is since Dead; who, as I found by the Noise she made, was newly returned from France. A little before the rising of the Curtain, she broke out into a loud Soliloquy. When will the dear Witches enter? and immediately upon their first Appearance. asked a Lady that sate three Boxes from her, on her Right hand, if those Witches were not charming Creatures. A little after, as Betteron was in one of the finest Speeches of the Play, she shook her Fan at another Lady, who sate as far on her Left Hand, and told her with a Whisper, that might be heard all over the Pit, We must not expect to see a Balloon to night. Not long after, calling out to a young Baronet by his Name, who sate thtree Seats before me, she asked him whether Mackbeth's Wife was still alive; and before he could give an Answer, fell a talking of the Ghost of Banquo. She had by this time formed a little Audience to her self, and fixed the Attention of all about her. But as I had a mind to hear the Play, I got out of the Sphere of her Impertinence, and planted my self in one of the remotest Corners of the Pit."
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