In a word, Madam Ellen (as the drama often styles her after she was declared the King's mistress) had no great turn for tragedy, nor do we note her in any part of moment but that of Valeria, in Tyrannical Love, to which Dryden raised her partly through partiality, and partly as it was necessary for her to die in that play in order to rise and speak the epilogue.

In comedy she was more excellent; nevertheless she must not be ranked as an actress with the Quins, Davenports, Marshalls, Bowtels, Bettertons, and Lees, du siecle d'or de Charles II. But of what the French call enjou'e she was a perfect mistress — airy, fantastic, coquet, sprightly, singing, dancing — made for slight, showy parts, and filling them up, as far as they went most effectually — witness Florimel in the Maiden Queen, to which she spoke the epilogue, Jacinta in the Mock Astrologer, amp;c.

It is highly probable that Madam Ellen might have made a more decent figure in life had her birth been fortunate, and her education good. A seminary like the streets and cellars of London is infinitely worse than crawling in woods, and conversing with savages. We make this remark because she possessed many good qualities, which no human disadvantages could quite destroy. She had no avarice — when her power increased she served all her theatrical friends. She showed particular gratitude to Dry den; and valued eminent writers, as Lee, Otway, amp;c. She was almost the only mistress of the King who was guilty pi no infidelity towards him, nor did she relapse after his decease. Endued with natural sagacity and wit, she made no ill use of them at Court, paid no attention to ministers, nor ever acted as their creature. Her charities were remarkable; and, what was singular, she piqued herself on a regard for the Church of England, contrary to the genius of the then Court.