was only among the more refined scholars that it at first retained any resemblance to the classic model. For the more popular audiences it was debased with an intermixture of low, gross humour, which long continued under the name of tragi-comedy. Our poets were mostly content to imitate the old mysteries, in giving only a tissue of interesting events, without any artful conduct of the fable, and without the least regard to the three great unities. These compositions they called histories, and they would probably have long continued the only specimens of our heroic drama, if a few persons of more refined taste had not introduced legitimate tragedy in the ancient form, intended at first for private and learned audiences at the inns of court, or the universities. It was for a grand Christmas solemnity at the Inner Temple, in 1561, that the tragedy of Ferrex_and Porrex was composed by Thomas Sackville, afterward Lord Buckhurst, assisted by Thomas Norton. As a favourable specimen of this production we extract the lines in which Prince Ferrex imprecates curses on himself, if he ever meant ill to his brother Porrex. The wrekeful gods pour on my cursed hede To wish his end of life, or yet of reign. This play, the first dramatic piece of any consideration in the English language, is not void of blemishes; but the language is in general dignified and perspicuous, some of the speeches are genuine specimens of English eloquence, and the account of Porrex's death is very much in the manner of the ancients. It was a model which our first dramatic writers would have done well to follow; but as they unfortunately aimed no higher than at present applause and profit, they were content to pander to the taste of a rude and ignorant audience, and the theatres continued to exhibit pieces much more in the Gothic form, than according to the chaste models of antiquity. How imperfect they were in all dramatic art appears from an excellent criticism of Sir Philip Sidney on the writers of this period, who, however, instead of benefiting by his advice, endeavoured to render their pieces as attractive as possible, by adorning them with dumb shows, choruses, and other devices. In spite of all defects we had made a far better progress at this time than our neighbours the French; and were at least upon a footing with the other nations of Europe. About the year 1589 The Spanish Tragedy was written by Kyd, and Soliman and Persida seems to have been composed by the same author. Though not entirely free from pedantry and affectation, a fine spirit runs through these productions, and the character of Basilisco is very well supported; and, if Kyd's play was acted before Shakspeare's Henry IV. (for they were both printed in the same year, 1599), it should seem to be the original of Falstaff. These tragedies are written in blank verse, intermixed with some passages in rhyme, where we sometimes find a smooth couplet not unworthy of Dryden, as— Where bloody furies shake their whips of steel, About the close of the sixteenth century a sacred subject was again delivered in the dramatic form-the story of David and Absalom being wrought into a tragedy by George Peele, a very ingenious writer and a flowery poet. This piece abounds in luxuriant descriptions and fine imagery, the author's genius seeming to have been kindled by reading the Prophets and the Song of Solomon. He calls lightning by a metaphor worthy of Eschylus-"the spouse of thunder with bright and fiery wings:" nor is his description of David less worthy of admiration: Beauteous and bright he is, among the tribes- And, bridegroomlike, hurls thro' the gloomy air There are many passages in this play of which Milton need not have been ashamed, and which, perhaps, he had read with pleasure, especially the prologue, which is the regular exordium of an epic poem. Such was the state of the English theatre, when all at once the true drama received birth and perfection from the creative genius of Shakspeare, Fletcher, Ben Jonson, and others, upon whose merits it is unnecessary to enlarge. The former, in particular, by the charms of his versification, the beauty of his speeches and descriptions, and the surprising vigour of his original and unassisted genius, exalted the English stage to so high a degree of perfection, that it rivals or surpasses the classic models of ancient Greece and Rome. But though he outshines all his contemporaries, he has not altogether extinguished them. Enough of their productions remains to prove that they constituted a very brilliant and wide-spread gallery of dramatic talent. "He overlooks and commands the admiration of posterity," says an admirable critic ;* "but he does it from the table-land of the age in which he lived. He towers above his fellows in shape and gesture proudly eminent ;' but he was one of a race of giants, the tallest, the strongest, the most graceful, and beautiful of them; but it was a common brood. If we allow, for argument's sake, that he was in himself equal to all his competitors put together, yet there was more dramatic excellence in that age than in the whole of the period that has elapsed since. If his contemporaries with their united strength would hardly make one' Shakspeare, certain it is that all his successors would not make half a one. With the exception of a single writer, Otway, and of a single play of his (Venice Preserved), there is nobody in tragedy and dramatic poetry (I do not here speak of comedy) to be compared to the great men of the age of Shakspeare and immediately after. They are a mighty phalanx of kindred spirits, closing him round, moving in the same orbit, and impelled by the same causes in their whirling and eccentric career. The sweetness of Decker, the thought of Marston, the gravity of Chapman, the grace of Fletcher and his young-eyed wit, Jonson's learned sock, the flowing vein of Middleton, Heywood's ease, the pathos of Webster, and Marlow's deep designs, add a double lustre to the sweetness, thought, gravity, grace, wit, artless nature, copiousness, ease, pathos, and sublime conceptions of Shakspeare's muse. For such an extraordinary combination and developement of fancy and genius many causes may be assigned; and we may seek for the chief of The late Mr. Hazlitt, in his Lecture on Dramatic Literature, p. S. them in religion, in politics, in the circumstances of the time, the recent diffusion of letters-in local situation, and in the character of the men who adorned that period, and availed themselves so nobly of the advantages placed within their reach." This was indeed a dramatic era, since the writers for the stage, numerous and fertile as they were beyond all precedent, seem to have been hardly able to supply the demands of a people who must have been almost universally devoted to the entertainments of the stage, if we are to judge by the number of playhouses then supported in London. From the year 1570 to the year 1629, no less than seventeen had been built; and as the theatres were so numerous, the companies of players were in proportion. Besides the children of the chapel, and of the revels, we are told that Queen Elizabeth established, in handsome salaries, twelve of the principal players of that time, who went under the name of her majesty's comedians and servants. Exclusively of these, many noblemen retained companies of players, who performed not only privately in their lords' houses, but publicly under their license and protection. Abuse soon flowed from this universal and unrestricted indulgence in the pleasures of the stage. The great inns, being converted into temporary theatres, became the scenes of much scandalous ribaldry and shameless dissipation; of which Stow has left us a record in his Survey of London. Speaking of the stage he says, "This, which was once a recreation, and used therefore now and then occasionally, afterward, by abuse, became a trade and calling, and so remains to this day. In those former days ingenious tradesmen and gentlemen's servants would sometimes gather a company of themselves, and learn interludes, to expose vice, or to represent the noble actions of our ancestors. These they played at festivals, in private houses, at weddings, or other entertainments; but in process of time it became an occupation: and these plays being commonly acted on Sundays or festivals, the churches were forsaken, and the playhouses thronged. Great inns were used for this purpose, which had secret chambers and places, as well as open stages and galleries. Here maids and good citizens' children were inveigled and allured to private and unmeet contracts; here were publicly uttered popular and seditious matters, unchaste, uncomely, and shameful speeches, and many other enormities. The consideration of these things occasioned, in 1574, Sir James Hawes being mayor, an act of common council, in which it was ordained, That no play should be openly acted within the liberty of the city, wherein should be uttered any words, examples, or doings of any unchastity, sedition, or such-like unfit and uncomely matter, under the penalty of five pounds, and fourteen days' imprisonment: that no play should be acted till first permitted and allowed by the lord mayor and court of aldermen; with many other restrictions. But these orders were not so well observed as they should be; the lewd matters of plays increased, and they were thought dangerous to religion, the state, honesty, and manners, and also for infection in the time of sickness: wherefore they were afterward for some time totally suppressed; but upon application to the queen and council, they were again tolerated, under the following restrictions: That no plays be acted on Sundays at all, nor on any holyday till after evening prayer; that no playing be in the dark, nor continue any such time but as any of the auditors may return to their dwellings before sunset, or, at least, before it be dark, &c. But all these proscriptions were not sufficient to keep them within due bounds, but their plays, so abusive oftentimes of virtue, or particular persons, gave great offence, and occasioned many disturbances, when they were now and then stopped and prohibited." CHAPTER XXV. English Drama, concluded. "What's gone, and what's past help, "The players cannot keep counsel;-this fellow will tell all." Shakspeare. Soon after this period the stage recovered its credit, and rose to a higher pitch than ever. In 1603, the first year of King James's reign, a license was granted to Shakspeare and others, authorizing them to act plays, not only at their |