The Kislar Agasi, superintendant of the Sultan’s pleasures, had packed a company of players together, as he could find them; and this was the first representation of a new tragedy at the Seraglio. It was composed by a modern author, who had gain’d such reputation, that though his piece had been but a string of impertinences, it would assuredly have met with a favorable reception. But he did not debase his character. His work was well written, his scenes conducted with art, his incidents managed with dexterity, the interest went on increasing, and the passions in being developed. The acts, naturally link’d together, and full, constantly held the audience in suspence with regard to the sequel, and satisfied with what was past: and they were got to the fourth act of this masterpiece, to a very moving scene, which was a preparation to another still more interesting; when Mangogul, in order to save himself from the ridicule of listening to the tender parts, pull’d out his glass, and acting the inattentive, surveyed the several boxes. In the front box he observed a woman in great emotion, but of an ill-timed sort, as having no relation to the piece. His ring was instantly levelled at her, and in the midst of most pathetic commendations, a Toy, panting for breath, was heard addressing the player in these terms: