reproach as possible; and accordingly gave out, that she had detected
Mrs. Manley in an intrigue with her own son, and as she did not care
to give encouragement to such amours, she thought proper to discharge
her. Whether or not there was any truth in this charge, it is
impossible for us to determine: But if Mrs. Manley's own word may be
taken, in such a case, she was perfectly innocent thereof.

When our authoress was dismissed by the duchess, she was sollicited by
lieutenant-general Tidcomb, to pass some time with him at his country
seat; but she excused herself by telling him, she must be in love with
a man, before she could think of residing with him, which she could
not, without a violation of truth, profess for him. She told him her
love of solitude was improved, by her disgust of the world, and
since it was impossible for her to be public with reputation, she was
resolved to remain in it concealed.

It was in this solitude she composed her first tragedy, which was much
more famous for the language, fire, and tenderness, than the conduct.
Mrs. Barry distinguished herself in it, and the author was often heard
to express great surprize, that a man of Mr. Betterton's grave sense,
and judgment, should think well enough of the productions of a young
woman, to bring it upon the stage, since she herself in a more mature
age could hardly bear to read it. But as the play succeeded, she
received such unbounded incense from admirers, that her apartment
was crowded with men of wit, and gaiety. There is a copy of verses
prefixed to her play, said to be written by a very great hand which
deserve notice.

What! all our sex in one sad hour undone?
Lost are our arts, our learning, our renown