“I shall see some squeaking Cleopatra boy my greatness I’ th’ posture of a whore.” Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra, V.ii.215

This morning I met Mr John Mottley on the Strand. He was in a black temper. After we had exchanged our good mornings and the intelligence of the day, I asked Mr Mottley why he was so dispirited.

He explained that he had lost his contract with the Excise Office and now had to make ends meet by his writing. Mr Mottley, as you will know, regards himself as something of a playwright. 

He said that Mr Rich¹John Rich was the manager of the New Theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, one of London’s principal theatres had ended the performances of his play “The Imperial Captives”.  The enthusiasts for the Theory of Sleeplessness had barricaded the New Theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields wherein the play was staged. They complained that they were offended by its theme for it had “appropriated the subject of Imperialism”. (I did not venture that perhaps it was not the Theme of the play but the plot which they did not like. When I attended the play, I confess, I fell fast asleep despite the charm of Mrs Seymour in the role of Eudosia). Having lost his quotidian job and now his money from Mr John Rich’s Companie at the New Theatre, John Mottley vouched safe to me that he was reduced almost to penury.

Where will things end? I asked out of politeness.

They will not end well, said Mr Mottley. He informed me that John Rich had been minded previously to stage his adaptation of Wm Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra with Mrs Seymour in the role of the Queen. (Mrs Seymour is most pulchritudinous and the thought of her portraying the death of that tragic queen most arousing – whatever hackery Mr Mottley might commit upon the Bard’s words). But, he said, he doubted that Mr Rich would be able to stage the production because the Proponents of Sleeplessness have already asserted that it is a Sin that a true born English woman should portray a Greek tyrant who had subjugated the Egyptian People and appropriated the clothes of their Pharaohs.

“Who then should play the Queen?” I jested, “A woman of Arabia?”

“That is indeed what they demand,” replied Mr Rich.

After careful deliberation I said, “Pish”. Then, after more consideration, I said, “Pshaw”. There was no further judgment that could be delivered about such nonsense. So, I pished and pshawed again.

Young Mottley was in such bad humour that no amount of pishing and pshawing would lift his spirits. To that end I suggested that we retire to Wills’s where I stood him a chocolate and a brandy. This did indeed revive his spirits and he resolved that he would foreswear writing Tragedie and turn his attentions to Comedie²In fact, John Rich staged another of Mottley’s tragedies, Antiochus, at the New Theatre before Mottley turned his hand to comedy with limited success. No trace of Mottley’s proposed adaptation of Antony and Cleopatra exists .

I know not whether Mr Mottley’s endeavours at theatrical gaiety will find any more success than his Tragedies. What I do know is that the subject of my Treatise is fast expanding. In but a few months I have witnessed the toppling of statues and the burning of books. I now discover that, unwilling to leave the propriety of London’s theatres to the Lord Chamberlain, the proponents of Sleeplessness now appoint themselves Censors. To this I will turn when tomorrow I shall commence Part I of my Treatise.

I remain your obedient and humble servant,

The Somnambulist.