The theatre was probably but a poor-looking structure, hastily put together in the Tennis-court to serve the purpose of the manager for a time merely.

Seven years later, Tom Killigrew, talking to Mr.
Pepys, boasted that the stage had become "by his pains a thousand times better and more glorious than ever before." There had been improvement in the candles; the audience was more civilised; the orchestra had been increased; the rushes had been swept from the stage; everything that had been mean was now "all otherwise." The manager possibly had in his mind during this retrospect the condition of the Vere Street Theatre while under his management.

The audience possessed an unruly element.

'Prentices and servants filled the gallery; there were citizens and tradesmen in the pit, with yet a contingent of spruce gallants and scented fops, who combed their wigs during the pauses in the performance, took snuff, ogled the ladies in the boxes, and bantered the orange-girls.

The prologue begins: I come, unknown to any of the rest, To tell the news: I saw the lady drest-- The woman plays to-day; mistake me not, No man in gown or page in petticoat.
* * * * * 'Tis possible a virtuous woman may Abhor all sorts of looseness and yet play; Play on the stage--where all eyes are upon her: Shall we count that a crime France counts an honour?
In other kingdoms husbands safely trust 'em.
The difference lies only in the custom.
The gentlemen sitting in that "Star Chamber of the house, the pit," were then besought to think respectfully and modestly of the actress, and not to run "to give her visits when the play is done." We have, then, a picture of the male performers of female characters: But to the point: in this reforming age We have intent to civilise the stage.
Our women are defective, and so sized You'd think they were some of the guard disguised; For, to speak truth, men act, that are between Forty and fifty, wenches of fifteen; With bone so large and nerve so incompliant.
When you call Desdemona, _enter giant_.
The prologue concludes with a promise, which certainly was not kept, that the drama should be purged of all offensive matter: And when we've put all things in this fair way, Barebones himself may come to see a play.
In the epilogue the spectators were asked: "How do you like her ?"--especial appeal being made to those among the audience of the gentler sex: But, ladies, what think _you_?
For if you tax Her freedom with dishonour to your sex, She means to act no more, and this shall be No other play but her own tragedy.
She will submit to none but your commands, And take commission only from your hands.
The ladies, no doubt, applauded sufficiently, and "women-actors" from that time forward became more and more secure of their position in the theatre.