k place
after the passage of the licensing act.[9]

Mrs. Clive's decision to stay with Highmore rather than defect was
probably made because "two women--Mrs. Wilks, the widow of her [Kitty's]
old theatrical idol, and Mrs. Booth--were in he direction of the
theater.[10] But in light of Fielding's words and her actions and
statements in regard to the welfare of Drury Lane and its actors
throughout her career, I believe that Mrs. Clive, although not pleased
with aspects of Highmore's reign, also refused to defect because she
felt that the manager was basically in the right, that her fellow
players would be destitute or at least open to hardship without
employment there, and that the audiences would take offense at such
unprofessional and selfish behavior from their "servants." The "Town,"
as her own play _The Rehearsal_ (I.i. 159-170) shows, was always her
judge in matters professional.

Fielding's prologue to his revised _Author's Farce_ (1734), spoken by
Mrs. Clive, compares the settled, prosperous former days at Drury Lane
with those of 1734, when "... _alas! how alter'd is our Case!/ I view
with Tears this poor deserted Place_."[11] With few exceptions, the
"place" continued strangely in decline even with a competent company and
often with a full house. The falling-off continued until the advent of
Garrick, who with Lacy in 1747 co-managed the theater into a new era.

From the mid-thirties until 1743, Mrs. Clive appears in roles she had
made famous as well as those newly written with her particular talents
in mind. Fielding, turning more and more to political satire and soon to
another literary form, had little need of her services;[12] but others
did, and the years between the licensing act and 1743 find Mrs. Clive in
demand as the affected lady of quality, speaker of humorous epilogues,
performer in Dublin, and singer of such favorites as "Ellen-a-Roon,"
"The Cuckoo," and "The Life of a Beau." This period is also marked by
Mrs. Clive's first professional venture with David Garrick, in his
_Lethe_, the beginning of a relationship to become one of the most
tempestuous and fruitful in all theater history.

As I intimated at the outset, the licensing act mainly troubled the
London players because of the power of monopoly it invested in Fleetwood
and Rich. Not only were the forums for dramatic presentation now
restricted, but so was professional freedom. The problem, therefore, was
as much philosophical as it was geog