ercury_ for September 15, 1736,
reads:--

'The new theatre in Carrubber's Close being in great forwardness,
will be opened on the 1st of November. These are to advertise the
ladies and gentlemen who incline to purchase annual tickets, to
enter their names before the 20th of October next, on which day
they shall receive their tickets from Allan Ramsay, on paying 30s.,
no more than forty to be subscribed for; after which none will be
disposed of under two guineas.'

Meantime the clerical party and the enemies of Ramsay had joined hands
in common opposition to his plans. 'Hardly had he begun operations'
(writes Professor Masson) 'when there came the extraordinary statute of
10 Geo. II. (1737), regulating theatres for the future all over Great
Britain. As by this statute, there could be no performance of stage
plays out of London and Westminster, save when the king chanced to be
residing in some other town, Ramsay's speculation collapsed.' In fact,
the municipal authorities, at the instigation of the clergy, employed
the force of the statute peremptorily to close his theatre. In vain he
appealed to law. 'He only received a quibble for his pains. He was
injured without being damaged,' said the lawyers. In vain he appealed in
a poetical epistle, to President Duncan Forbes of the Court of Session,
wherein he says--

'Is there aught better than the stage
To mend the follies o' the age,
If managed as it ought to be,
Frae ilka vice and blaidry free?
Wherefore, my Lords, I humbly pray
Our lads may be allowed to play,
At least till new-house debts be paid off,
The cause that I'm the maist afraid of;
Which lade lyes on my single back,
And I maun pay it ilka plack.'

Well might the good-hearted, honourable-minded poet dread the future.
The responsibility lay upon him alone for the expense of the building,
and from many intimations he let drop the failure of the speculation
well-nigh ruined him. But the increasing sale of his books, and the
expanding prosperity of his business, soon recouped his outlay. That he
was much depressed by his losses, heavy and unexpected as they were, is
evident from a private letter he wrote at this time to the President,
and which is still preserved at Culloden House. 'Will you,' he writes,
'give me something to do? Here I pass a sort of half-idle, scrimp life,
tending a trifling trade that scarce affords me the needful. Ha