Nigel Olifaunt was too eagerly and deeply absorbed in the interest of
the scene, to be capable of playing his part as became the place where
he was seated. He felt all the magic of that sorcerer, who had
displayed, within the paltry circle of a wooden booth, the long wars
of York and Lancaster, compelling the heroes of either line to stalk
across the scene in language and fashion as they lived, as if the
grave had given up the dead for the amusement and instruction of the
living. Burbage, esteemed the best Richard until Garrick arose, played
the tyrant and usurper with such truth and liveliness, that when the
Battle of Bosworth seemed concluded by his death, the ideas of reality
and deception were strongly contending in Lord Glenvarloch's
imagination, and it required him to rouse himself from his reverie, so
strange did the proposal at first sound when his companion declared
King Richard should sup with them at the Mermaid.
They were joined, at the same time, by a small party of the gentlemen
with whom they had dined, which they recruited by inviting two or
three of the most accomplished wits and poets, who seldom failed to
attend the Fortune Theatre, and were even but too ready to conclude a
day of amusement with a night of pleasure. Thither the whole party
adjourned, and betwixt fertile cups of sack, excited spirits, and the
emulous wit of their lively companions, seemed to realise the joyous
boast of one of Ben Jonson's contemporaries, when reminding the bard
of
"Those lyric feasts,
Where men such clusters had,
As made them nobly wild, not mad;
While yet each verse of thine
Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.
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