instrumental music, after the French composition, being heard awhile, the curtains are suddenly opened, and in the rostras appear sitting a Parisian and a Londoner, in the livery robes of both cities, who declaim concerning the pre-eminence of Paris and London." The Parisian has the first speech, in which all the odd customs and habits of the Londoners are ridiculed with considerable humour. "After a consort of instrumental music, imitating the Waites of London, the Londoner rises," and retaliates on the pleasantry of his antagonist in a similar vein; then "the curtains are suddenly closed, and the company entertained by instrumental music and a song. The song ended, the curtains are drawn open again, and the Epilogue enters." The Epilogue performs his business, and "after a flourish of loud music, the curtain is closed, and the entertainment ended."
With this singular performance, our theatres recommenced their career under the Protectorate, after their violent suppression during the civil troubles. It was not a drama, it was not an opera, though partaking of the nature of each; and thus the English stage, at its second birth, received an impress which has affected its future progress.
Although from the time of Sir William Davenant to that of Sir Bulwer Lytton, men the most conspicuous in their day for literary attainments have been candidates for the palm of dramatic excellence, their efforts in this walk have been either feeble or exaggerated.
During the intervening period we have had authors who have excelled in every other department of literature, but not one dramatist who can be compared with that "giant race before the flood," the play-writers of the Elizabethan age. Mere amusement has been the aim; and with no more exalting object to purify its tone, the theatre at one time sank to be the nursery of vice, the
