frequented the old theatres, abundant mention is made by the poets and
satirists of the past. In this respect there can be no question that
the censure which was so liberally awarded was also richly merited.
Mr. Collier quotes from Edmund Gayton, an author who avowedly "wrote
trite things merely to get bread to sustain him and his wife," and who
published, in 1654, "Festivous Notes on the History of the renowned
Don Quixote," a curious account of the behaviour of our early
audiences at certain of the public theatres. "Men," it is observed,
"come not to study at a playhouse, but love such expressions and
passages which with ease insinuate themselves into their
capacities.... On holidays, when sailors, watermen, shoemakers,
butchers, and apprentices are at leisure, then it is good policy to
amaze those violent spirits with some tearing tragedy full of fights
and skirmishes ... the spectators frequently mounting the stage, and
making a more bloody catastrophe among themselves than the players
did." Occasionally, it appears, the audience compelled the actors to
perform, not the drama their programmes had announced, but some other,
such as "the major part of the company had a mind to: sometimes
'Tamerlane;' sometimes 'Jugurtha;' sometimes 'The Jew of Malta;' and,
sometimes, parts of all these; and, at last, none of the three taking,
they were forced to undress and put off their tragic habits, and
conclude the day with 'The Merry Milkmaids.'" If it so chanced that
the players were refractory, then "the benches, the tiles, the lathes,
the stones, oranges, apples, nuts, flew about most liberally; and as
there were mechanics of all professions, everyone fell to his own
trade, and dissolved a house on the instant, and made a ruin of a
stately fabric. It was not then the most mimical nor fighting man
could pacify; prologues nor epilogues would prevail; the Devil and the
Fool [evidently two popular characters at this time] were quite out of
favour; nothing but noise and tumult fills the house," &c. &c.