Historia Histrionica. An Historical Account of the English-Stage; showing the Ancient Uses, Improvement, and Perfection of Dramatic Representations, in this Nation. In a Dialogue, of Plays and Players.—Olim meminisse juvabit. London. Printed by G. Croom, for William Haws, at the Rose in Ludgate-Street. 1699. 8o. This tract is said to have been the production of James Wright of New Inn, afterwards of the Middle Temple, Barrister-at-Law, who was the son of Abraham Wright, a well-known miscellaneous writer (1645-70). The former was the author of "The Antiquities of Rutlandshire," and some poems; particularly (1) "An Essay on the Present Ruins of St Paul's Cathedral." To which is annexed, "The Misfortunes of St Paul's Cathedral," in heroic verse, 4o. 1668; reprinted with two other poems under the title of (2) "Three poems of St Paul's Cathedral; viz., The Ruins, The Rebuilding, The Choire, FOOTNOTES:Much has been writ of late pro and con about the stage, yet the subject admits of more, and that which has not been hitherto touched upon; not only what that is, but what it was, about which some people have made such a bustle. What it is we see, and I think it has been sufficiently displayed in Mr Collier's book; what it was in former ages, and how used in this kingdom, so far back as one may collect any memorials, is the subject of the following dialogue. Old plays will be always read by the curious, if it were only to discover the manners and behaviour of several ages, and how they altered. For plays are exactly like portraits, drawn in the garb and fashion of the time when painted. You see one habit in the time of Charles I., another quite different from that, both for men and women, in Queen Elizabeth's time; another under Henry VIII. different from both; and so backward, all various. And in the several fashions of behaviour and conversation there is as much mutability as in that of clothes. Religion and religious matters were once as much the Some may think the subject of this discourse trivial, and the persons herein mentioned not worth remembering. But besides that I could name some things contested of late with great heat, of as little or less consequence, the reader may know that the profession of players is not so totally scandalous, nor all of them so reprobate, but that there has been found under that name a canonised saint in the primitive church, as may be seen in the "Roman Martyrology" on the 29th March: his name Masculas, a master of interludes (the Latin is Archimimus, and the French translation un MaÎtre comedien) who, under the persecution of the Vandals in Africa by Geisericus the Aryan king, having endured many and grievous torments and reproaches for the confession of the truth, finished the course of this glorious combat, saith the said "Martyrology." It appears from this and some further instances in the following discourse, that there have been players of worthy principles as to religion, loyalty, and other virtues; and if the major part of them fall under a different character, it is the general unhappiness of mankind, that the most are the worst. FOOTNOTES:Lovewit, Trueman. Love. Honest old cavalier, well met! faith, I'm glad to see thee. True. Have a care what you call me: old is a word of disgrace among the ladies; to be honest is to be poor and foolish (as some think); and cavalier is a word as much out of fashion as any of 'em. Love. The more's the pity. But what said the fortune-teller in Ben Jonson's "Masque of Gipsies," to the then Lord Privy Seal?— Honest and old! In those the good part of a fortune is told. True. Ben Jonson! how dare you name Ben Jonson in these times, when we have such a crowd of poets of a quite different genius, the least of which thinks himself as well able to correct Ben Jonson as he could a country schoolmistress that taught to spell! Love. We have, indeed, poets of a different genius, so are the plays; but, in my opinion, they are all of 'em (some few excepted) as much inferior to those of former times, as the actors now in True. I can, and dare assure you, if my fancy and memory are not partial (for men of my age are apt to be over-indulgent to the thoughts of their youthful days), I say the actors that I have seen before the wars—Lowin, Taylor, Pollard, and some others—were almost as far beyond Hart and his company as those were beyond these now in being. Love. I am willing to believe it, but cannot readily; because I have been told that those whom I mentioned were bred up under the others of your acquaintance, and followed their manner of action, which is now lost: so far that, when the question has been asked why these players do not revive the "Silent Woman" and some other of Jonson's plays (once of highest esteem), they have answered, "Truly, because there are none now living who can rightly humour those parts; for all who related to the Blackfriars (where they were acted in perfection) are now dead and almost forgotten." True. 'Tis very true, Hart and Clun were bred up boys at the Blackfriars, and acted women's parts. Hart was Robinson's boy or apprentice; he acted the Duchess in the tragedy of the "Cardinal," which was the first part that gave him reputation. Cartwright and Wintershal belonged to the Private House in Salisbury Court; Burt was a boy, first under Shank at the Blackfriars, then under Beeston at the Cockpit; and Mohun and Shatterel were in the same condition with him at the last place. There Burt used to play the principal women's parts, in particular Clariana, in "Love's Cruelty;" and at the same time Love. That I have seen, and can well remember. I wish they had printed in the last age (so I call the times before the Rebellion) the actors' names over against the parts they acted, as they have done since the Restoration, and thus one might have guessed at the action of the men by the parts which we now read in the old plays. True. It was not the custom and usage of those days, as it hath been since. Yet some few old plays there are that have the names set against the parts, as "The Duchess of Malfy," "The Picture," "The Roman Actor," "The Deserving Favourite," "The Wild-Goose Chase" (at the Blackfriars), "The Wedding," "The Renegado," "The Fair Maid of the West," "Hannibal and Scipio," "King John and Matilda" (at the Cockpit), and "Holland's Leaguer" (at Salisbury Court). Love. These are but few indeed. But pray, sir, what master-parts can you remember the old Blackfriar's men to act in Jonson, Shakespeare, and Fletcher's plays? True. What I can at present recollect, I'll tell you. Shakespeare (who, as I have heard, was a much better poet than player), Burbage, Hemmings, and others of the older sort, were dead before I knew the town; but in my time, before the wars, Lowin used to act with mighty applause Falstaff, Morose, Volpone, and Mammon in the "Alchymist," Melantius in the "Maid's Tragedy;" and at the same time Amyntor was played by Stephen Hammerton (who was at first a most noted and beautiful woman-actor, but afterwards he acted with equal grace and applause a young lover's part); Taylor acted Hamlet incom Love. Were there so many companies? True. Before the wars there were in being all these play-houses at the same time. The Blackfriars and Globe on the Bank-side, a winter and summer house, belonging to the same company, called the King's Servants; the Cockpit or Phoenix, in Drury Lane, called the Queen's Servants; the Private House, in Salisbury Court, called the Prince's Servants; the Fortune, near Whitecross Street; Love. Which I admire at; that the town, much less than at present, could then maintain five companies, and yet now two can hardly subsist. True. Do not wonder, but consider that, though the town was then, perhaps, not much more than half so populous as now, yet then the prices were small (there being no scenes), and better order kept among the company that came; which made very good people think a play an innocent diversion for an idle hour or two, the plays themselves being then, for the most part, more instructive and moral. Whereas, of late, the play-houses are so extremely pestered with vizard-masks and their trade (occasioning continual quarrels and abuses), that many of the more civilised part of the town are uneasy in the company, and shun the theatre as they would a house of scandal. It is an argument of the worth of the plays and actors of the last age, and easily inferred, that they were much beyond ours in this, to consider that they could support themselves merely from their own merit, the weight of the matter, and goodness of the action, without scenes and machines; whereas the present plays, with all that show, can hardly draw an audience, unless there be the additional invitation of a Signer Fedeli, a Monsieur l'AbbÉ, or some such foreign regale expressed in the bottom of the bill. Love. To waive this digression, I have read of one Edward Alleyn, a man so famed for excellent action, that among Ben Jonson's epigrams I find Wear this renown; 'tis just that who did give So many poets life, by one should live. Was he one of the Blackfriars? True. Never as I have heard (for he was dead before my time). He was master of a company of his own, for whom he built the Fortune Playhouse from the ground, a large round brick building. This is he that grew so rich, that he purchased a great estate in Surrey and elsewhere; and having no issue, he built and largely endowed Dulwich College in the year 1619 Love. What kind of play-houses had they before the wars? True. The Blackfriars, Cockpit, and Salisbury Court were called private houses, and were very small to what we see now. The Cockpit was standing since the Restoration, and Rhodes's company acted there for some time. Love. I have seen that. True. Then you have seen the other two in effect, for they were all three built almost exactly alike for form and bigness. Here they had pits for the gentry, and acted by candlelight. The Globe, Fortune, and Bull were large houses, and lay partly open to the weather, and there they always acted by daylight. Love. But prythee, Trueman, what became of these players when the stage was put down, and the Rebellion raised? True. Most of them, except Lowin, Taylor, and Pollard (who were superannuated) went into the king's army, and, like good men and true, served their old master, though in a different, yet more honourable capacity. Robinson was killed at the taking of a place (I think Basing House) by Harrison, he that was after hanged at Charing Cross, who refused him quarter, and shot him in the head when he had laid down his arms; abusing Scripture at the same time in saying, Cursed is he that doth the work of the Lord negligently. Mohun was a captain, and (after the wars were ended here) served in Flanders, where he received pay as a major. Hart was a lieutenant of horse under Sir Thomas Dallison, in Prince Rupert's regiment; Burt was cornet in the same troop, and Shatterel quartermaster. Allen of the Cockpit was a major, and quartermaster-general at Oxford. I have not heard of one of these players; of any note that sided with the other party, but only Swanston; and he professed himself a Presbyterian, took up the trade of a jeweller, and lived in Aldermanbury, within the territory of Father Calamy. The rest either lost or exposed their lives for their king. When the wars were over, and the Royalists totally subdued, most of 'em who were left alive gathered to London, and for a subsistence endeavoured to revive their old trade privately. They made up one company out of all the scattered members of several; and in the winter before the king's murder, 1648, they ventured to act some plays, with as much caution and privacy as could be, at the Cockpit. They continued undisturbed for three or four days; but at last, as they were presenting the tragedy of the "Bloody Brother" (in which Lowin acted Aubery: Taylor, Rollo; Pollard, the Cook; Burt, Latorch; and, I think, Love. Yes; presently after the Restoration, the king's players acted publicly at the Red Bull for some time, and then removed to a new-built play-house in Vere Street, by Clare Market. There they continued for a year or two, and then removed to the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, where they first made use of scenes, which had been a little before introduced upon the public stage by Sir William Davenant, at the Duke's Old Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, but afterwards very much improved, with the addition of curious machines, by Mr Betterton, at the New Theatre in Dorset Garden, to the great expense and continual charge of the players. This much impaired their profit o'er what it was before; for I have been informed by one of 'em, that for several years next after the Restoration every whole sharer in Mr Hart's company got £1000 per ann. About the same time that scenes first entered upon the stage at London, women were taught to act their own parts; since when we have seen at both houses several actresses, justly famed, as well for beauty as perfect good action. And some plays, in particular the "Parson's Wedding," have been presented all by women, as formerly all by men. Thus it continued for about twenty years, when Mr Hart, and some of the old men, began to grow weary, and were minded to leave off. Then the two companies thought fit to unite; but of late, you see, they have thought it no less fit to divide again, though both companies keep the same name of His Majesty's Servants. All this while the play-house music improved yearly, and is now arrived to greater perfection than ever True. Yes, and his opposers'. Love. And what think you? True. In my mind, Mr Collier's reflections are pertinent, and true in the main; the book ingeniously wrote, and well intended; but he has overshot himself in some places, and his respondents perhaps in more. My affection inclines me not to engage on either side, but rather mediate. If there be abuses relating to the stage—which, I think, is too apparent—let the abuse be reformed, and not the use, for that reason only, abolished. 'Twas an old saying, when I was a boy— Absit abusus, non desit totaliter usus. I shall not run through Mr Collier's book; I will only touch a little on two or three general notions, in which, I think, he may be mistaken. What he urges out of the primitive councils and fathers of the Church seems to me to be directed against the heathen plays, which were a sort of religious worship with them, to the honour of Ceres, Flora, or some of their false deities. They had always a little altar on their stages, as appears plain enough from some places in Plautus. And Mr Collier himself, p. 235, tells us out of Livy that plays were brought in, upon the score of religion, to pacify the gods. No wonder, then, they forbid Christians to be present at them, for it was almost the same as to be present at their sacrifices. We must also observe that this was in the infancy of Christianity, when the Church was under severe Love. That's a great way off, Trueman; I had rather you would come nearer home, and confine your discourse to Old England. True. So I intend. The same has been done here in England; for otherwise, how comes it to be prohibited in the 88th Canon, among those passed in convocation, 1603? Certain it is that our ancient plays were of religious subjects, and had for their actors, if not priests, yet men relating to the Church. Love. How does that appear? True. Nothing clearer. Stow, in his "Survey of London," has one chapter Of the Sports and Pastimes of old time used in this City; and there he tells us, that in the year 1391, which was 15 Richard II., a stage-play was played by the parish clerks of London, at the Skinner's Well beside Smithfield, which play continued three days together, the king, queen, and nobles of the realm being present. And another was played in the year 1409, 11 Henry IV., which lasted eight days, and was of matter from the creation of the world, whereat were present most part of the nobility and gentry of England. Sir William Dugdale, in his "Antiquities of Warwickshire," p. 116, speaking of the Grayfriars or Franciscans at Coventry, says: "Before the suppression of the monasteries, this city was very famous for the pageants that were played therein upon Corpus-Christi Day; which pageants, being acted with mighty state and reverence by the friars of this house, had theatres for the several scenes very large and high, placed upon wheels, and drawn to all the Years he counted scarce thirteen, When fates turn'd cruel, Yet three fill'd zodiacs he had been The stage's jewel; And did act (what now we moan) Old men so duly, As, sooth, the ParcÆ thought him one, He play'd so truly. Some of these chapel-boys, when they grew men, became actors at the Blackfriars; such were Nathan. Field Love. Can you guess of what antiquity the representing of religious matters on the stage hath been in England? True. How long before the Conquest, I know not, but that it was used in London not long after, appears by Fitz-Stephen, an author who wrote in Maria. I have knowing that our cosyn Elizabeth with childe is, That it please yow to go to her hastyly, If ought we myth comfort her, it were to me blys. Joseph. A Gods sake, is she with child, sche? Than will her husband Zachary be mery. In Montana they dwelle, fer hence, so mot y In the city of Juda, I know it verily; It is hence, I trowe, myles two a fifty, We ar like to be wery, or we come at that same, I wole with a good will, blessyd wyff Mary; Now go we forth then in Goddys name, &c. A little before the Resurrection:—Nunc dormient milites, et veniet anima Christi de inferno, cum Adam et Eva, Abraham, John Baptist, et aliis. Anima Christi. Come forth, Adam, and Eve with the, And all my fryndes that herein be, In paradys come forth with me In blysse for to dwelle. The fende of hell that is your foo He shall be wrappyd and woundyn in woo: Fro wo to welth now shall ye go, With myrth evyrmore to melle. Adam. I thank the, Lord, of thy grete grace Now shall we dwellyn in blyssful place, &c. The last scene or pageant, which represents the day of judgment, begins thus: Michael. Surgite, All men aryse, Venite ad judicium, For now is set the High Justice, And hath assignyd the day of dome: Rape you redyly to this grett assyse. Both gret and small, all and sum, And of yowr answer you now avise, What you shall say, when that yow com, &c. These and such like were the plays, which in former ages were presented publicly. Whether they had any settled and constant houses for that purpose, does not appear; I suppose not. But it is notorious that in former times there was hardly ever any solemn reception of princes or noble persons, but pageants, that is, stages erected in the open street, were part of the entertainment: on which there were speeches by one or more persons, in the nature of scenes; and be sure one of the speakers must be some saint of the same name with the party to whom the honour is intended. For instance, there is an ancient manuscript at Coventry, called the "Old Leet Book," wherein is set down in a very particular manner, p. 168, the reception of Queen Margaret, wife of Henry VI. who came to Coventry; and, I think, with her young son, Prince Edward, on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, 35 Hen. VI. 1456. Many pageants and speeches were made for her St. Edward. Moder of mekenes, dame Margarete, princes most excellent, I king Edward wellcome you with affection cordial, Testefying to your highnes mekely myn entent. For the wele of the king and you hertily pray I shall, And for prince Edward my gostly chylde, who I love principal, Praying the, John Evangelist, my help therein to be, On that condition right humbly I give this ring to the. John Evangelist. Holy Edward, crowned king, brother in verginity, My power plainly I will prefer thy will to amplefy. Most excellent princes of wymen mortal, your bedeman will I be. I know your life so vertuous that God is pleased thereby. The birth of you unto this reme shall cause great melody: The vertuous voice of prince Edward shall dayly well encrease, St Edward his Godfader, and I shall prey therefore doubtlese. St. Margaret. Most notabul princes of wymen earthle, Dame Margarete, the chefe myrth of this empyre, Ye be hertely welcome to this cyte. To the plesure of your highnesse I will set my desyre; Both nature and gentlenesse doth me require, Seth we be both of one name, to shew you kindnesse; Wherefore by my power ye shall have no distresse. I shall pray to the prince that is endlese To socour you with solas of his high grace; For I wrought all my life that his will wace. Therefore, lady, when you be in any dredfull case, Call on me boldly, therof I pray you, And trust in me feythfully, I will do that may pay you. In the next reign, as appears in the same book, fol. 221, another Prince Edward, son of King Edward IV., came to Coventry on the 28th of April, 14 Edward IV. 1474, and was entertained with many pageants and speeches, among which I shall observe only two; one was of St Edward again, who was then made to speak thus:— Noble Prince Edward, my cousin and my knight, And very prince of our line com yn dissent, I St Edward have pursued for your faders imperial right, Whereof he was excluded by full furious intent. Unto this your chamber, as prince full excellent, Ye be right welcome. Thanked be Crist of his sonde, For that that was ours is now in your faders honde. The other speech was from St George, and thus saith the book:— "—— Also upon the condite in the Croscheping was St George armed, and a king's daughter kneling afore him with a lamb, and the fader and the moder being in a towre aboven beholding St George saving their daughter from the dragon, and the condite renning wine in four places, and minstralcy of organ playing, and St George having this speech underwritten"— O mighty God, our all succour celestiall, Which this royme hast given in dower To thi moder, and to me George protection perpetuall: And as this mayden defended was here By that grace from this dragons devour, So, Lord, preserve this noble prince and ever be his socour. Love. I perceive these holy matters consisted very much of praying; but I pity poor St Edward the Confessor who, in the compass of a few years, was made to promise his favour and assistance to two young princes, of the same name indeed, but of as different and opposite interests as the two poles. I know not how he could perform to both. True. Alas! they were both unhappy, notwithstanding these fine shows and seeming caresses of fortune; being both murdered, one by the hand, the other by the procurement, of Richard, Duke of Gloucester. I will produce but one example more of this sort of action or representations; and that is of later time, and an instance of much higher nature than any yet mentioned; it was at the marriage of Prince Arthur, eldest son of King Henry VII., to the Princess Catherine of Spain, ann. 1501. Her passage through London was very magnificent, as I have read it described in old MS. chronicle of that time. Hunc veneram locum, septeno lumine septum. Dignumque Arthuri totidem astra micant. I am begynyng and ende, that made ech creature. My sylfe, and for my sylfe, but man especially Both male and female, made aftyr myne aun fygure, Whom I joyned togydyr in matrimony, And that in paradyse, declaring opynly That men shall weddying in my chyrch solempnize, Fygurid and signifyed by the erthly paradyze. In thys my chyrch I am allway recydent As my chyeff tabernacle, and most chosyn place, Among these goldyn condylstikkis, which represent My catholyk chyrch shynyng affor my face, With lyght of feyth, wisdom, doctryne, and grace, And mervelously eke enflamyd toward me Wyth the [un]extyngwible fyre of charyte. Wherefore, my welbelovid dowthyr Katharyn, In my chyrch to be maried, and your noble childryn To regn in this land as in their enherytance, Se that ye have me in speciall remembrance: Love me and my chyrch yowr spiritual modyr. For ye, dispysing that oon, dyspyse that othyr. Look that ye walk in my precepts, and obey them well: And here I give you the same blyssyng, that I Gave my well beloved chylder of Israell; Blyssyd be the fruyt of your bely; Yower substance and frutys I shall encrease and multyply; Yower rebellious enimyes I shall put in yowr hand, Encreasing in honour both yow and your land. Love. This would be censured now-a-days as profane to the highest degree. True. No doubt on't: yet you see there was a time, when people were not so nicely censorious in these matters, but were willing to take things in the best sense; and then this was thought a noble entertainment for the greatest king in Europe (such I esteem king Henry VII. at that time) and proper for that day of mighty joy and triumph. And I must farther observe out of Lord Bacon's "History of Henry VII." that the chief man who had the care of that day's proceedings was Bishop Fox, a grave counsellor for war or peace, and also a good surveyor of works, and a good master of ceremonies; and it seems he approv'd it. The said Lord Bacon tells us farther that, whosoever had those toys in compiling, they were not altogether pedantical. Love. These things, however, are far from that which we understand by the name of a play. True. It may be so; but these were the plays of those times. Afterwards, in the reign of King Henry VIII., both the subject and form of these plays began to alter, and have since varied more and more. I have by me a thing called "A Merry Play between the Pardoner and the Friar, the Curate and Neighbour Pratt." Printed the 5th of April 1533, which was 24 Henry VIII. (a few years before the dissolution of monasteries.) The design of this play was to ridicule Friars and Pardoners. Of which I'll give you a taste. To begin it, the Friar enters with these words: Deus hic; the holy trynyte Preserve all that now here be. Dere bretherne, yf ye will consyder The cause why I am com hyder, Ye wolde be glad to knowe my entent: For I com not hyther for mony nor for rent, I com not hyther for meat nor for meale, But I com hyther for your soules heale, &c. After a long preamble he addresses himself to preach, when the Pardoner enters with these words: God and St Leonarde send ye all his grace, As many as ben assembled in this place, &c. and makes a long speech, showing his bulls and his reliques, in order to sell his pardons, for the raising some money towards the rebuilding Of the holy chappell of sweet saynt Leonarde, Which late by fyre was destroyed and marde. Both these speaking together with continual interruption, at last they fall together by the ears. Here the curate enters (for you must know the scene lies in the church): Hold your hands; a vengeance on ye both two, That ever ye came hyther to make this ado, To polute my chyrche, &c. Friar. Mayster Parson, I marvayll ye will give lycence To this false knave in this audience To publish his ragman rolles with lyes. I desyred hym ywys more than ones or twyse To hold his peas tyll that I had done, But he would here no more than the man in the mone. Pard. Why sholde I suffre the, more than thou me? Mayster Parson gave me lycence before the. And I wolde thou knowest it I have relykes here, Other maner stuffe than thou dost bere: I wyll edefy more with the syght of it, Than with all thy pratynge of holy wryt; For that except that the precher himselfe lyve well, His predycacyon wyll helpe never a dell, &c. Par. No more of this wranglyng in my chyrch: I shrewe yowr hertys bothe for this lurche. Is there any blood shed here between these knaves? Thanked be God they had no stavys, Nor egotoles, for then it had ben wronge, Well, ye shall synge another songe. Here he calls his neighbour Prat, the constable, with design to apprehend 'em, and set 'em in the stocks. But the Friar and Pardoner prove sturdy, and will not be stocked, but fall upon the poor Parson and Constable, and bang them both so Love. I observe, Trueman, from what you have said, that plays in England had a beginning much like those of Greece; the Monologues and Pageants, drawn from place to place on wheels, answer exactly to the cart of Thespis, and the improvements have been by such little steps and degrees as among the ancients, till at last, to use the words of Sir George Buck (in his "Third University of England"), "Dramatic poesy is so lively express'd and represented upon the public stages and theatres of this city, as Rome in the auge (the highest pitch) of her pomp and glory, never saw it better performed, I mean (says he) True. Not certainly; but I presume about the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's reign. For Stow, in his "Survey of London" (which book was first printed in the year 1598), says—"Of late years, in place of these stage-plays (i.e., those of religious matters) have been used comedies, tragedies, interludes, and histories, both true and feigned: for the acting whereof certain public places, as the Theatre, the Curtine, &c., have been erected." And the continuator of "Stow's Annals," p. 1004, says that in sixty years before the publication of that book (which was Ann. Dom. 1529), no less than seventeen public stages, or common playhouses, had been built in and about London. In which number he reckons five inns or common hostelries to have been in his time turned into playhouses—one Cockpit, Saint Paul's Singing-school, one in the Blackfriars, one in the Whitefriars, and one in former time at Newington Butts. And adds: Before the space of sixty years past, I never knew, heard, or read of any such theatres, stages, or playhouses, as have been purposely built within man's memory. Love. After all, I have been told that stage-plays are inconsistent with the laws of this kingdom, and players made rogues by statute. True. He that told you so strained a point of truth. I never met with any law wholly to suppress them: sometimes, indeed, they have been prohibited for a season; as in times of Lent, general mourning, or public calamities, or upon other occasions, when the government saw fit. Thus, by proclamation 7th of April, in the first Love. But this privilege of authorising or licensing is taken away by the stat. Jac. I., ch. 7, s. 1., and therefore all of them, as Mr Collier says, p. 242, are expressly brought under the aforesaid penalty without distinction. True. If he means all players, without distinction, 'tis a great mistake. For the force of the queen's statute extends only to wandering players, and not to such as are the king or queen's servants, and established in settled houses by royal authority. On such the ill character of vagrant players (or, as they are now called, strollers) can cast no more aspersion, than the wandering proctors, in the same statute mentioned, on those of Love. Farewell, old Cavalier. True. 'Tis properly said; we are almost all of us now gone and forgotten. "I'le rather stand here Like a statue in the forefront of your house For ever; like the picture of Dame Fortune Before the Fortune Play-house." Nathaniel Field, on the authority of Roberts the player (see his answer to Mr Pope's preface to Shakespeare), has been considered as the author of two plays: "A Woman is a Weathercocke," 1612, and "Amends for Ladies," 1618. He is also supposed to be the same person who assisted Massinger in "The Fatal Dowry." I suspect that Roberts was mistaken in these assertions, as I do not find any contemporary writer speak of Field as an author; nor is it mentioned by Langbaine, who would have noticed it, had he known the fact. It seems more probable that the writer of these plays was Nathaniel Field, M.A., Fellow of New College, Oxford, who wrote some Latin verses, printed in "Oxoniensis AcademiÆ Parentalia, 1625," and who, being of the same university with Massinger, might join with him, while there, in the composition of the play ascribed to them. Nathaniel Field above mentioned was celebrated in the part of "Bussy D'Ambois," first printed in 1607. On the republication of that play in 1641, he is thus spoken of in the Prologue:— "Field is gone, Whose action first did give it name, and one, Who came the neerest to him, is denide By his gray beard to shew the height and pride Of D'Ambois youth and braverie; yet to hold Our title still a foot, and not grow cold By giving it o're, a third man with his best Of care and paines defends our interest; As Richard he was lik'd, nor doe wee feare, In personating Dambois, hee'le appeare To faint, or goe lesse, so your free consent As heretofore give him encouragement." |