In the Prologue to this Play, Heywood descants upon the variety of topics, which had been introduced upon the English stage in that age,—the rich Shakspearian epoch.
To give content to this most curious age,
The Gods themselves we’ve brought down to the stage,
And figured them in Planets; made ev’n Hell
Deliver up the Furies, by no spell
Saving the Muses’ raptures: further we
Have traffickt by their help; no History
We’ve left unrifled; our pens have been dipt
As well in opening each hid manuscript,
As tracts more vulgar, whether read or sung,
In our domestic or more foreign tongue.
Of Fairy elves, Nymphs of the Sea and Land,
The Lawns and Groves, no number can be scann’d,
Which we’ve not given feet to. Nay, ’tis known,
That when our Chronicles have barren grown
Of story, we have all Invention stretcht;
Dived low as to the center, and then reacht
Unto the Primum Mobile above,
(Nor ’scaped Things Intermediate), for your love
These have been acted often; all have past
Censure: of which some live, and some are cast.
For this[386] in agitation, stay the end;
Tho’ nothing please, yet nothing can offend.
[From the “Challenge to Beauty,” a Tragi-comedy, by T. Heywood, 1636.]
In the Prologue to this Play, Heywood commends the English Plays; not without a censure of some writers, who in his time had begun to degenerate.
The Roman and Athenian Dramas far
Differ from us: and those that frequent are
In Italy and France, ev’n in these days,
Compared with ours, are rather Jiggs than Plays.
Like of the Spanish may be said, and Dutch;
None, versed in language, but confess them such.
They do not build their projects on that ground;
Nor have their phrases half the weight and sound,
Our labour’d Scenes have had. And yet our nation
(Already too much tax’d for imitation,
In seeking to ape others) cannot ’quit
Some of our Poets, who have sinn’d in it.
For where, before, great Patriots, Dukes, and Kings,
Presented for some high facinorous things[387]
Were the stage subject; now we strive to fly
In their low pitch, who never could soar high:
For now the common argument entreats
Of puling Lovers, crafty Bawds, or Cheats.
Nor blame I their quick fancies, who can fit
These queasy times with humours flash’d in wit,
Whose art I both encourage and commend;
I only wish that they would sometimes bend
To memorise the valours of such men,
Whose very names might dignify the pen;
And that our once-applauded Rosscian strain
In acting such might be revived again;
Which you to count’nance might the Stage make proud,
And poets strive to key their strings more loud.
C. L.
[386] His own Play.
[387] The foundations of the English Drama were laid deep in tragedy by Marlow, and others—Marlow especially—while our comedy was yet in its lisping state. To this tragic preponderance (forgetting his own sweet Comedies, and Shakspeare’s), Heywood seems to refer with regret; as in the “Rosscian Strain” he evidently alludes to Alleyn, who was great in the “Jew of Malta,” as Heywood elsewhere testifies, and in the principal tragic parts both of Marlow and Shakspeare.