Upon another occasion the poet writes: 

    But only fools, and they of vast estate,
    The extremity of modes will imitate,
    The dangling knee-fringe and the bib-cravat.

While the fops were thus equipped, the ladies wore vizard-masks, and upon the appearance of one of these in the pit—­

    Straight every man who thinks himself a wit,
    Perks up, and managing his comb with grace,
    With his white wig sets off his nut-brown face.

For it was the fashion of the gentlemen to toy with their soaring, large-curled periwigs, smoothing them with a comb.  Between the fops and the ladies goodwill did not always prevail.  The former were, no doubt, addicted to gross impertinence in their conversation.

    Fop Corner now is free from civil war,
    White wig and vizard-mask no longer jar,
    France and the fleet have swept the town so clear.

So Dryden “prologuised” in 1672, attributing the absence of “all our braves and all our wits” to the war which England, in conjunction with France, had undertaken against the Dutch.

Queen Anne, in 1704, expressly ordered that “no woman should be allowed, or presume to wear, a vizard-mask in either of the theatres.”  At the same time it was commanded that no person, of what quality soever, should presume to go behind the scenes, or come upon the stage, either before or during the acting of any play; and that no person should come into either house without paying the price established for their respective places.  And the disobedient were publicly warned that they would be proceeded against, as “contemners of our royal authority and disturbers of the public peace.”

These royal commands were not very implicitly obeyed.  Vizard-masks may have been discarded promptly, but there was much crowding, behind the scenes and upon the stage, of persons of quality for many years after.  Garrick, in 1762, once and for ever, succeeded in clearing the boards of the unruly mob of spectators, and secured room to move upon the scene for himself and his company.  But it was only by enlarging his theatre, and in such wise increasing the number of seats available for spectators in the auditory of the house, that he was enabled to effect this reform.  From that date the playgoers of the past grew more and more like the playgoers of the present, until the flight of time rendered distinction between them no longer possible, and merged yesterday in to-day.  There must have been a very important change in the aspect of the house, however, when hair powder went out of fashion in 1795; when swords ceased to be worn—­for, of course, then there could be no more rising of the pit to slash the curtain and scenery, to prick the performers, and to lunge at the mirrors and decorations; when gold and silver lace vanished from coats and waistcoats, silks and velvets gave place to broadcloth and pantaloons; and when, afterwards, trousers covered those nether