should open the book--I did so, at the omen in the twelfth book of the
Iliad, and read these words:

Jove's bird on sounding pinions beat the skies;
A bleeding serpent of enormous size
His talons trussed; alive and curling round
She stung the bird, whose throat receiv'd the wound.
Mad with the smart he drops the fatal prey,
In airy circles wings his painful way,
Floats on the winds, and rends the heavens with cries:
Amid the hosts the fallen serpent lies;
They, pale with terror, mark its spires unroll'd,
And Jove's portent with beating hearts behold.

It is now time to talk a little of the theatre; and surely a receptacle
so capacious to contain four thousand people, a place of entrance so
commodious to receive them, a show so princely, so very magnificent to
entertain them, must be sought in vain out of Italy. The centre front
box, richly adorned with gilding, arms, and trophies, is appropriated to
the court, whose canopy is carried up to what we call the first gallery
in England; the crescent of boxes ending with the stage, consist of
nineteen on a side, _small boudoirs_, for such they seem; and are as
such fitted up with silk hangings, girandoles, &c. and placed so
judiciously as to catch every sound of the fingers, if they do but
whisper: I will not say it is equally advantageous to the figure, as to
the voice; no performers looking adequate to the place they recite upon,
so very stately is the building itself, being all of stone, with an
immense portico, and stairs which for width you might without hyperbole
drive your chariot up. An immense sideboard at the first lobby, lighted
and furnished with luxurious and elegant plenty, as many people send for