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better than a Court fool, fit only to play clowns' pranks

at sheriffs' dinners.

We must therefore aim

At extraordinary subtle ones now,

When we do send to keep us up in credit :
Not old Iniquities.

In the induction to 'The Staple of News' two cronies are introduced as critics of the comedy. After sitting through the first act, Gossip Mirth says to Gossip Tattle:

But they have no fool in this play, I am afraid, gossip.

Gossip Tattle remembers the good old times of her youth, when the Vice and Devil shook the stage together:

My husband, Timothy Tattle-God rest his poor soul !—was wont to say there was no play without a fool and a Devil in 't; he was for the Devil still, God bless him! The Devil for his money, would he say, I would fain see the Devil.

Gossip Mirth caps these reminiscences with her own recollection of a certain Devil :

As fine a gentleman of his inches as ever I saw trusted to the stage, or anywhere else; and loved the Commonwealth as well as ever a patriot of them all: he would carry away the Vice on his back, quick to hell, in every play where he came, and reform abuses.

These passages prove sufficiently that the salt of the Moralities existed for the common folk in the diabolic characters, and that these characters were confounded with the parts of clown and fool, sinking gradually into insignificance with the advance of the Drama as a work of pure art,

IV.

'Lusty Juventus,' one of the best and most popular of the Moralities, is styled, 'An enterlude, lively describing the frailty of youth of nature prone to vice by grace and good counsel trainable to virtue.' Such, in truth, is the argument of all these plays. In the delineation of man's vicious companions, the author had some scope for the exhibition of coarse scenes of humour and characters drawn from common life. Of this opportunity he availed himself liberally. The virtuous company of abstract qualities, who save the hero at the close, are employed to deliver dry homilies upon duty, the means of salvation, and the fundamental doctrines of religion. Inasmuch as the Moralities were composed during the uncertain reigns of the first three Tudors, they reflect the conflict of opinion between Protestantism and the elder faith. Some favour the Reformation, and abound in bitter satire on the Roman priesthood; others, hardly less satirical, uphold Catholic tradition. The dramatic talent of the playwright is shown in the greater or less ability with which he transforms his allegorical beings into life-like personages; and, as may readily be conceived, he succeeds best with the bad folk. Hypocrisy plays a fair monk's part; Sensuality and Abominable Living are women of the town; Freewill is a turbulent ruffler; Imagination a giddy-pated pleasure-seeker.

One of our earliest printed Moral Plays, Mundus et Infans,' or 'The World and the Child,' issued from the press of Wynkyn de Worde in 1522. Mundus,

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not unlike God in the Miracles, prologises on his own great power and majesty. A child comes to him naked and newly born, asking for clothes and for a name. Mundus calls him Wanton, and bids him return when fourteen years are over. The child spends his boyhood in pastime; and having come again to Mundus, gets the name of Lust and Liking. Love and pleasure fill his thoughts now, and he declares himself to be 'as fresh as flowers in May.' On reaching the age of twenty-one he is styled Manhood, dubbed knight, and consigned to the fellowship of the Seven Deadly Sins. But at this period of his career, Conscience, attired apparently like a monk, accosts him in the street, and begs to be informed of his condition :

Conscience.

Why, good sir knight, what is your name?

Manhood.

Manhood, mighty in mirth and game :
All power of pride have I ta'en :

I am as gentle as jay on tree.

Conscience.

Sir, though the world have you to manhood brought,

To maintain manner ye were never taught.

No, conscience clear ye know right nought,

And this longeth to a knight.

Manhood.

Conscience! What the devil, man, is he?

Conscience.

Sir! a teacher of the spirituality.

Manhood.

Spirituality! What the devil may that be?

Conscience.

Sir! all that be leaders in to light.

Then follows a long debate, in which Conscience declares to Manhood that, though the Seven Sins be great and puissant monarchs, holding their might from Mundus, yet is it no part of Manhood's duty to consort with them. Manhood is persuaded, and resolves to take the good advice of Conscience. But no sooner has he come to this determination, than Folly, who plays the part of Vice, enters with unseemly jests, and seduces Manhood. A dialogue reveals the birth and haunts of Folly:

Manhood.

But hark, fellow, by thy faith where wast thou born?

Folly.

By my faith, in England have I dwelt yore,

And all mine ancestors me before.

But, sir, in London is my chief dwelling.

Manhood.

In London! Where, if a man thee sought?

Folly.

Sir, in Holborn I was forth brought,

And with the courtiers I am betaught.

To Westminster I used to wend.

Manhood.

Hark, fellow, why dost thou to Westminster draw?

Folly.

For I am a servant of the law.
Covetous is mine own fellow.

We twain plead for the king;

And poor men that come from upland,
We will take their matter in hand;

Be it right or be it wrong,

Their thrift with us shall wend.

It next appears that Folly is acquainted with all the

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taverns and houses of ill fame; and what is more, with

all the monasteries.

Manhood.

I pray thee yet tell me more of thine adventures.

Folly.

In faith, even straight to all the friars ;
And with them I dwelt many years,
And they crowned me king.

Manhood.

I pray thee, fellow, whither wendest thou though?

Folly.

Sir, all England to and fro :

In to abbeys and in to nunneries also;

And alway Folly doth fellows find.

Manhood.

Now hark, fellow, I pray thee tell me thy name.

Folly.

I wis I hight both Folly and Shame.

Manhood takes Folly into his service; and living riotously in this bad company, is brought at last to misery. In his last state he is called Age, and repents him of his evil living :

Alas! my lewdness hath me lost.

Where is my body so proud and prest?

I cough and rout, my body will brest,

Age doth follow me so.

I stare and stagger as I stand,

I groan glysly upon the ground.

Alas! Death, why lettest thou me live so long?

I wander as a wight in woe

And care,

For I have done ill.

Now wend I will

My self to spill,

I care not whither nor where.