‘Thomas Prestonæ, Scholarem,
‘Quem dixit princeps Elizabetha suum,’ &c.

Insomuch,” continues Fuller, “that for his good disputing, and excellent acting, in the tragedy of Dido, she bestowed on him a pension of 20 lib. a year; whilst Cartwright received neither reward nor commendation, whereof he not only complained to his inward friends in Trinity College, but also, after her Majesty’s neglect of him, began to wade into divers opinions against her ecclesiastical government.” And thus, according to the authority first cited, he became the first Dissenter in England, and was deprived, subsequently, as a matter of course, of both his fellowship and professorship.

It was most probably for the entertainment of the Royal Elizabeth, that one Thomas Still, M.A., of Christ’s College, Cambridge, afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells, composed and produced

THE FIRST ENGLISH PLAY EXTANT:

A fact no Cantab need blush at, proh pudor, though the plot is none of the sublimest. It was printed as early as 1575, with the following

TITLE:

“A ryght pythy, pleasant, and merie Comedie, entytuled Gammer Gurton’s Needle; played on the stage not long ago in Christe’s College, in Cambridge, made by Mr. S. Master of Arts. Imprynted at London, in Fleete Streeate, beneth the Conduit, at the signe of Sainte John Evangelist, by Thomas Colwell.” Though altogether of a comic cast, it was not deficient in genuine humour, and is a curious sample of the simplicity which prevailed in this country, in the early days of dramatic art. It is in metre, is spun out into five regular acts, and an awful piece it is, as may be seen by the following

BRIEF SKETCH OF THE PLOT.

Gammer Gurton having lost her needle, a great hunt is made in search of it, and her boy is directed to blow the embers of an expiring fire, in order to light a candle to help the search. The witch of a cat has, in the meantime, got into the chimney, with her two fiery eyes. The boy cries, “it is the devil of a fire!” for when he puffs, it is out,—and when he does not, it is in. “Stir it!” bawls Gammer Gurton. The boy does her bidding, and the cat (the fire as he imagines) flies forthwith amongst a pile of wood. “The house will be burnt, all hands to work!” roars the boy, and the cat is discovered by a priest (more cunning than the rest.) This ends the episode, with which the main plot and catastrophe vie. Gammer Gurton, it seems, had, the day before, been mending her man Hodge’s breeches. Now Hodge, in some game of merriment, was to be punished, for some default, with three slaps on the breech, to be administered by the brawny hand of one of his fellow-bumpkins. To that end, his head is laid in Gammer Gurton’s lap; the first slap is given, Hodge bellows out with pain, and, oh! joyful announcement, on searching for the cause of his affliction, the needle is discovered, buried up to the eye in poor Hodge’s posterior portion. The needle is then extracted with becoming demonstrations, and the curtain falls.

Amongst other interesting matters associated with the memory of Queen Elizabeth (beside that of her having given Cambridge that admirable body of statutes upon which all laws for their governance still continue to be framed,) are the following memoranda, extracted by Dyer from Baker’s MSS. in the public library of the University:—