Such was, indeed, a custom of the time (albeit it was exceedingly distasteful to the audience), as these gallants, whilst they swaggered with their rapiers, or combed their long curls, interfered frequently with the business of the hour, mewing like cats, hissing like serpents, tickling each other's ears with the rushes, and, if they had any pique against actor or author, "damning him utterlie." Nay, it was extremely fashionable at this period for a gallant to salute his friend in the boxes, in the midst of the performance, or carry on a loud conversation so as utterly to discontinue and distract the business of the hour, and being thus in the very midst of the actors, perhaps, himself and company would then get up and withdraw, making as much noise as possible. In addition to this was the rudeness of the "all licensed clowns," who laughed in order to set on the barren spectators to laugh too, though, in the mean time, "some necessary question of the play had to be considered."
On the present occasion, however, albeit the conversation was somewhat of the loudest, the company were necessitated to be somewhat restrained within the bounds of propriety out of respect to the Queen.
The orchestra, we fear, must have rather "split the ears of the groundlings." The performers were, for the most part, situated behind the scenes. It consisted principally of wind instruments and two kettle-drums, which, ever and anon, sounded out a wild flourish of martial music, whilst a viol-de-gamba and several fiddles occasionally created a sort of relief to the troubled ear.
In our own times, indeed, magnificent as the whole scene must have appeared, it would have been criticised severely. The loud talking of those on the stage, the impertinence of the clowns, the rudeness and small dimensions of the stage, and whole theatre, and which latter indeed was calculated to give the actors a gigantic appearance, bringing them too close to the audience, would have been cavilled at. In addition to all this, was the lack of scenery and decorations; nay, so great was the dearth of painted scenery at this interesting period, that the spot on which the scene was supposed to occur, was indicated by a board or placard, upon which was written the particular locality.
Still, with all those deficiencies, the whole aspect of the interior would have presented an extraordinary effect to a modern spectator.
The Queen, beneath her canopy of state, for so was it be-fashioned; her splendid guard standing immediately beneath, and bearing "staff torches," which threw their glare upon the spectators, and lit up the Gothic architecture of that abbey playhouse. The stage itself being also, on this occasion, lighted by torches held by servitors having the royal arms emblazoned on their doublets. Then those choice spirits of the Court too, sitting or lying on either hand, and several of the gentlemen-pensioners on guard at each wing. Altogether, rude as was the theatre, the entire scene was, as we have already said, one of peculiar splendour. Meanwhile, during the few brief minutes before the curtain rises, a lively conversation was going on amongst the audience.
"Ah, what, Sir Thomas Lucy, art thou, too, come to see the play to-night?" said Lord Burleigh to our old Warwickshire acquaintance, who was elbowing his way into the gallery amongst the élite. "By cock and pie, but 'tis long since thou and I have met at masque or revel."
"Fie! my lord. 'Tis so indeed," returned the knight, "some twenty winters is it since we foregathered at Arundel Castle."
"Go to, Sir Thomas," said Lord Burleigh, "By 'ur Lady, 'tis thirty years come Martinmas. Rememberest thou the revels there, what time we saw enacted in the great hall the Castle of Perseverance?"
"Truly, I had forgotten that," said Sir Thomas Lucy. "Yet now I do remember me thereof."