fore, be surprised to find we have omitted to notice some authors and their productions; we have not, for instance, given any specimen of the moralities indited by our early poet laureat, John Skelton, whose moral interlude of the Nigramansir was printed so early as 1504, by Wynkin de Worde; although the learned Erasmus, in his letter to King Henry the 8th, calls him, "Britannicarum Literarum lumen et decus." In this interlude the Devil is one of the principal dramatis personæ, and the audience (consisting of "the king* and other estatys,") were treated with a view of hell, and a dance between the devil and the Nigramansir. Of John Heywood, the epigrammatist, however, the favorite of Henry the 8th and Queen Mary, and the friend of Sir Thomas More, for the reasons stated in our last number, we propose to say a few words. He was the author of several interludes, the whole of which, except the Four P's, were printed in 1533; and that play, which is without date, was probably printed about the same time. The author entitles the last mentioned production a very merry interlude of a Palmer, a Pardoner, a Poticary, and a Pedler;-it contains no plot or story, but the incidents are as follow:-the three first-named personages fall into a controversy as to the comparative worthiness of their respective callings, a proposal is made that he who can tell the best lie shall be waited on" by the others, and the Pedler is constituted judge of this whimsical exhibition of talent. Each of the polemics produces something appropriate to his profession.

The Pardoner says,

"Nay, sirs, beholde, heer may ye see

The great toe of the Trinitie.

Who to this toe any money vowth,

And once may role it in his mouth,

All his life after, I undertake,

He shall never be vext with the tooth-ake.

Poticary. I pray you turn that relique about:
Either the Trinity had the gout,

Or els, because it is three toes in one,

God made it asmuche as three toes alone."

The Poticary is anxious to try his skill:

"Poticary. Now if I wist this wishe no sin; I would to God I might begin.

Pardoner. I am content that thou lie first.

Palmer. Even so am I; now say thy wurst.
Now let us hear of all thy lyes,

The greatest lie thou maist devise.
And in the fewest woords thou can.

Poticary. Forsooth, you are an honest man.
Palmer. There said he muche, but yet no lie.
Pardoner. Now lie ye bothe, by our Lady.
Thou liest in boste of his honestie;
And he hath lyed in affirming thee.

Poticary. If we bothe lie, and you say true,
Then of these lies, your part adue.
And if you win, make none advaunt ;
For you are sure of one il servant.
You may perceive by the woords he gave,
He taketh your maship but for a knave.
But who tolde truthe or lyed in deed,
That wil I knowe ere we proceed.
Sir, after that I first began

To praise you for an honest man,

Then you affirm'd it for no lie:

Now, by your faith, speak even truly;
Thought you your affirmation true?

Palmer. Yea, mary, for I would you knew,

I think my self an honest man.

Poticary. What thought you in the contrary than?
Pardoner. In that I said the contrary,

I think from trouth I did not vary.

Poticary. And what of my woords?

Pardoner. I thought you lyed.

Poticary. And so thought I, by God that dyed.

Now have you twain eche for him self laid,

That one hath lyed, but bothe true said.

And of you twain none have denyed,

But both affirmed that I have lyed.
Now sith bothe ye the truthe confesse,
How that I lyed, doo, bear witnes,
That twain of us may soon agree,
And that the lyer the winner must be."

Finding, at length, that this wordy war would, at the rate the disputants were going on, have no end, the Pedler proposes that each of the three rivals in lying should tell a tale, on which he will in due form of law pronounce his judgment. The Poticary commences with a professional story of no very decent description-the Pardoner tells an infernal lie of his fetching

a woman from hell, whom the prince of that realm is very glad to be rid of; and the Palmer states, that of five hundred thousand women whom he had seen, he never in his conscience knew one out of patience. This excites an involuntary exclamation from every one of the party, as the most exorbitant lie that was ever invented, and he gains a triumphant victory. The Pardoner gives a humorous description of his satanic majesty's subjects.

"This devil and I walked arme in arme,
So far, til he had brought me thither,
Where all the devils of hel togither
Stood in array, in suche apparel
As for that day there meetly fel.

Their hornes wel gilt, their clawes ful clene,
Their tayles wel kempt, and, as I ween,
With suthery butter their bodies anointed;
I never saw devils so wel appointed.
The maister devil sat in his jacket;
And all the soules were playing at racket.
None other rackets had they in hand,
Save every soule a good fire brand;
Wherwith they played so pretely,
That Lucifer laughed merrily.
And all the residue of the feends,

Did laugh thereat ful wel like freends."

This, to be sure, is but a faint sketch of the regular comedy; but even this was something gained on the mysteries and moralities-it displays no discrimination of individual characterbut there is some humour in the description of the peculiarities of the different professions of the personages, and some point and liveliness in the dialogue. This is the only interlude of our author which Langbaine had seen; and we much lament that we have not had the opportunity ourselves of seeing any other, as it has been repeatedly printed.

Heywood's interludes are worthy of notice, as the very first, though rude and unshapely, skeleton of English comedy.

In the Ancient British Drama, Dr. Palsgrave's play of Acolastus is stated to have been the first, and is said to have been printed in 1529, and Ames, p. 166, is referred to. This play, however, is merely a translation, for the use of children, of a Latin play of William Fullonius, on the story of the Prodigal Son, "set forthe before the bourgesses of Hagen, in Holland," in that year, translated by Dr. P. and printed in 1540. See Ames, by Herbert, 435; and Langbaine.

But the appearance of Gammer Gurton's Needle, printed, according to Oldys, originally in 1551, and written by John Still, M.A., brings us to a yet more interesting period of dramatic history. This production, as our first regular comedy, is connected with such delightful associations-it opened such a new source of untried enjoyment, that it demands our attention on that ground alone, without reference to its merit-but it has merit, although purely of a ludicrous description. It displays considerable dramatic skill and comic power. The humour, however, is coarse and low, and blemished with much grossness of expression. The dialogue is familiar and spitited, and the characters well supported: they consist of Diccon, the Bedlam, a cunning fellow, who lives upon stolen bacon and mischief-Hodge, a mere bumpkin-Gammer Gurton and Dame Chat, two brawling old wives-Mas Doctor Rat, an ignorant meddling parson, who would rather run the risk of a broken-head than lose a tithe-pig-and the Baily, a passable person, who dispensed justice seasoned with mirth, and afterwards drank his halfpenny ale with the parties litigant.

We recollect, that on our first perusal of this old comedy, we were very much amused, and in the course of it, indulged ourselves more than once in a hearty laugh. The plot turns upon the loss of the Gammer's only needle;

"A little thing with an hole in the end, as bright as any siller, Small, long, sharp at the point, and straight as any piller."

This disaster happens whilst the dame is mending the breeches of Hodge, her man.-In the midst of the operation, Gib, the Cat, who is no unimportant personage in the play, disturbs the Gammer's serenity by making a furtive attempt on Hodge's milk.-The Gammer, in a passion, throws the beforementioned article of apparel at Gib, and that valuable instrument of female economy is lost. After a fruitless search in all imaginable places, Diccon, the bedlam, a mischievous wag, undertakes to conjure up the Devil and make him discover to Hodge where the needle is. Hodge, however, dares not venture into the magic circle, but leaves Diccon with unequivocal tokens of bodily fear. The Bedlam, seeing this affair would afford some sport, straightway hies him to Dame Chat, and tells her how Gammer Gurton has accused her of stealing her cock he next applies himself to the Gammer, and swears he saw Dame Chat pick up the needle at the Gammer's door. This brings the two old ladies together. The one accuses the other of stealing her goods, and from words they soon proceed to blows, in which Dame Chat comes off victorious. In this extremity, the Gammer applies for relief to the curate, Doctor Rat. Here, again, Diccon interposes, and

persuades the learned ecclesiastic to creep upon the silent hour of night into Dame Chat's house, when he will see her at work with the aforesaid needle. Meanwhile, Diccon gives Dame Chat notice that Hodge will that night pay an evil-intentioned visitation to her poultry. The dame accordingly prepares for his reception, and, instead of the needle, the Doctor meets with a door-bar, wielded by the masculine hand of the dame, (who conceives it to be Hodge,) to the almost total demolition of his skull. To the Baily, Gammer Gurton has now recourse; when, after a long argument, the author of the mischief is discovered, and enjoined a certain ceremony by way of expiation; and as a preliminary, gives Hodge a smart thump on a part of his person, that, to the recipient's great discomfiture, leads to the detection of the invaluable needle, which it seems had been securely lodged in the necessary article of clothing on which the Gammer had been at work.

The legitimate end of comedy could not be contemplated in such a plan as this: there is, however, a very obvious and striking advance in the comic drama ;-considering the state of which, at that period, the production we are now discussing manifests no small observation and discrimination of character. Hodge's preparation for the pursuit of the fugitive needle, and his attempt to elicit a friendly spark from Gib's eyes to light his candle, is described with great humour. The Gammer's boy says,

"Gog's cross, Gammer, if ye will laugh, look in but at the door, And see how Hodge lieth tomblinge and tossing amids the floure, Raking there, some fyre to find among the ashes dead, Where there is not one sparke so big as a pin's head: At last in a dark corner two sparkes he thought he sees, Which were indeede nought else, but Gib our cat's two eyes. Puffe, quod Hodge, thinking thereby to have fyre without doubt; With that Gib shut her two eyes, and so the fyre was out; And by and by them opened, even as they were before, With that the sparkes appered even as they had done of yore; And even as Hodge blew the fire as he did thinck, Gib, as she felt the blast, straight way began to winck; Till Hodge fell of swering, as came best to his turn, The fier was sure bewicht, and therefore would not burn: At last Gib up the stayers, among the old postes and pins, And Hodge he hied him after, til broke were both his shins : Cursing and swering oths, were never of his making, That Gib would fire the house, if that she were not taken."

The pugilistic scene between the two dames, is given with