same overwhelming ruin. "No throne no theatre," seemed as just a dogma
as the famous "No king no bishop." The puritans indeed commenced their
attack against royalty in this very quarter; and, while they impugned
the political exertions of prerogative, they assailed the private
character of the monarch and his consort, for the encouragement given to
the profane stage, that rock of offence, and stumbling-block to the
godly. Accordingly, the superiority of the republicans was no sooner
decisive, than the theatres were closed, and the dramatic poets
silenced. No department of poetry was accounted lawful; but the drama
being altogether unhallowed and abominable, its professors were
persecuted, while others escaped with censure from the pulpit, and
contempt from the rulers. The miserable shifts to which the surviving
actors were reduced during the commonwealth, have been often detailed.
At times they were connived at by the caprice or indolence of their
persecutors; but, in general, so soon as they had acquired any slender
stock of properties, they were beaten, imprisoned, and stripped, at the
pleasure of the soldiery.[2]

The Restoration naturally brought with it a revived taste for those
elegant amusements, which, during the usurpation, had been condemned as
heathenish, or punished as appertaining especially to the favourers of
royalty. To frequent them, therefore, became a badge of loyalty, and a
virtual disavowal of those puritanic tenets which all now agreed in
condemning. The taste of the restored monarch also was decidedly in
favour of the drama. At the foreign courts, which it had been his lot to
visit, the theatre was the chief entertainment; and as amusement was
always his principal pursuit, it cannot be doubted that he often sought
it there. The interest, therefore, which the monarch took in the
restoration of the stage, was direct and personal. Had it not been for
this circumstance, it seems probable that the general audience, for a