Chapter I: Front Matter

THE

WORKS

OF

JOHN DRYDEN,

NOW FIRST COLLECTED

_IN EIGHTEEN VOLUMES._

ILLUSTRATED

WITH NOTES,

HISTORICAL, CRITICAL, AND EXPLANATORY,

AND

A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,

BY

WALTER SCOTT, ESQ.

VOL. VII.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR WILLIAM MILLER, ALBEMARLE STREET,

BY JAMES BALLANTYNE AND CO. EDINBURGH

1808.

* * * * *

CONTENTS

OF

VOLUME SEVENTH.

The Duke of Guise, a Tragedy
Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Rochester
The Vindication of the Duke of Guise

Albion and Albanius, an Opera
Preface

Don Sebastian, a Tragedy
Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Leicester
Preface

* * * * *

THE

DUKE OF GUISE.

A TRAGEDY.

Outôs de philotimoi physeis en tais politeiais to agan mê
phylaxamenai, tôi agathou meizon to kakon echousi.
PLUTARCH. IN AGESILAO.

THE DUKE OF GUISE.

In the latter part of Charles the Second's reign, the stage, as well as every other engine which could affect the popular mind, was eagerly employed in the service of the contending factions. Settle and Shadwell had, in tragedy and comedy, contributed their mite to the support of the popular cause. In the stormy session of parliament, in 1680, the famous bill was moved, for the exclusion of the Duke of York, as a papist, from the succession, and accompanied by others of a nature equally peremptory and determined. The most remarkable was a bill to order an association for the safety of his majesty's person, for defence of the protestant religion, for the preservation of the protestant liege subjects against invasion and opposition, and for preventing any papist from succeeding to the throne of England. To recommend these rigid measures, and to keep up that zealous hatred and terror of the catholic religion, which the plot had inspired, Settle wrote his forgotten tragedy of "Pope Joan," in which he revives the old fable of a female pope, and loads her with all the crimes of which a priest, or a woman, could possibly be guilty. Shadwell's comedy of the "Lancashire Witches" was levelled more immediately at the papists, but interspersed with most gross and scurrilous reflections upon the English divines of the high church party. Otway, Lee, and Dryden were the formidable antagonists, whom the court opposed to the whig poets. Thus arrayed and confronted, the stage absolutely foamed with politics; the prologues and epilogues, in particular formed channels, through which the tenets of the opposite parties were frequently assailed, and the persons of their leaders and their poets exposed to scandal and derision.

In the middle of these political broils, Dryden was called upon, as he informs us, by Lee, to return the assistance which that poet had afforded in composing "OEdipus." The history of the Duke of Guise had formerly occupied his attention, as an acceptable subject to the court after the Restoration. A League, formed under pretence of religion, and in defence of the king's authority, against his person, presented facilities of application to the late civil wars, to which, we may be sure, our poet was by no means insensible. But however apt these allusions might have been in 1665, the events which had taken place in 1681-2 admitted of a closer parallel, and excited a deeper interest. The unbounded power which Shaftesbury had acquired in the city of London, and its state of factious fermentation, had been equalled by nothing but the sway exercised by the leaders of the League in the metropolis of France. The intrigues by which the Council of Sixteen placed and displaced, flattered or libelled, those popular officers of Paris, whom the French call _echevins_, admitted of a direct and immediate comparison with the contest between the court and the whigs, for the election of the sheriffs of London; contests which attained so great violence, that, at one time, there was little reason to hope they would have terminated without bloodshed. The tumultuous day of the barricades, when Henry the second, after having in vain called in the assistance of his guards, was obliged to abandon his capital to the Duke of Guise and his faction, and assemble the states of his kingdom at Blois, was not entirely without a parallel in the annals of 1681. The violence of the parliament at London had led to its dissolution; and, in order to insure the tractability of their successors, they were assembled, by the king, at Oxford, where a concurrence of circumstances rendered the royal authority more paramount than in any other city of the kingdom. To this parliament the members came in an array, which more resembled the parliament of the White Bands, in the reign of Edward the second, than any that had since taken place. Yet, though armed, and attended by their retainers and the more ardent of their favourers, the leaders of opposition expressed their apprehensions of danger from the royal party. The sixteen whig peers, in their memorable petition against this removal, complained, that the parliament would at Oxford be exposed to the bloody machinations of the papists and their adherents, "of whom too many had crept into his majesty's guards." The aid of ballads and libellous prints was called in, to represent this alteration of the usual place of meeting as a manoeuvre to throw the parliament, its members, and its votes, at the feet of an arbitrary monarch[1]. It is probable that this meeting, which rather resembled a Polish diet than a British parliament, would not have separated without some signal, and perhaps bloody catastrophe, if the political art of Halifax, who was at the head of the small moderate party, called Trimmers, joined to the reluctance of either faction to commence hostilities against an enemy as fully prepared as themselves, had not averted so eminent a crisis. In all particulars, excepting the actual assassination, the parliament of Oxford resembled the assembly of the States General at Blois. The general character of the Duke of Monmouth certainly had not many points of similarity to that of the Duke of Guise; but in one particular incident his conduct had been formed on that model, and it is an incident which makes a considerable figure in the tragedy. In September 1679, after the king's illness, Monmouth was disgraced, and obliged to leave the kingdom. He retired to Holland, where he resided until the intrigues of Shaftesbury assured him the support of a party so strongly popular, that he might return, in open defiance of the court. In the November following, he conceived his presence necessary to animate his partizans; and, without the king's permission for his return, he embarked at the Brill, and landed at London on the 27th, at midnight, where the tumultuous rejoicings of the popular party more than compensated for the obscurity of his departure[2]. This bold step was, in all its circumstances, very similar to the return of the Duke of Guise from his government to Paris, against the express command of Henry the second, together with his reception by the populace, whom he came prepared to head in insurrection. Above all, the bill of exclusion bore a striking resemblance to the proceedings of the League against the King of Navarre, presumptive heir of the throne, whom, on account of his attachment to the protestant faith, they threatened to deprive of the succession.

The historical passages, corresponding in many particulars with such striking accuracy, offered an excellent groundwork for a political play, and the "Duke of Guise" was composed accordingly; Dryden making use of the scenes which he had formerly written on the subject, and Lee contributing the remainder, which he eked out by some scenes and speeches adopted from the "Massacre of Paris," then, lying by him in manuscript. The court, however, considered the representation of the piece as at least of dubious propriety. The parallel was capable of being so extended as to exhibit no very flattering picture of the king's politics; and, on the other hand, it is possible, that the fate of the Duke of Guise, as identified with Monmouth, might shock the feelings of Charles, and the justice of the audience.

Accordingly, we learn from the "Vindication," that the representation of the piece was prohibited; that it lay in the hands of the lord chamberlain (Henry Lord Arlington) from before mid-summer, 1682, till two months after that term; and that orders were not finally given for its being acted until the month of December in the same year. The king's tenderness for the Duke of Monmouth had by this time so far given way, that he had ordered his arrest at Stafford; and, from the dark preparations on both sides, it was obvious, that no measures were any longer to be kept betwixt them. All the motives of delicacy and prudence, which had prevented the representation of this obnoxious party performance, were now therefore annihilated or overlooked.

Our author's part of the "Duke of Guise" is important, though not of great extent, as his scenes contain some of the most striking political sketches. The debate of the Council of Sixteen, with which the play opens, was his composition; the whole of the fourth act, which makes him responsible for the alleged parallel betwixt Guise and Monmouth, and the ridicule cast upon the sheriffs and citizens of the popular party, with the first part of the fifth, which implicates him in vindicating the assassination of Guise. The character and sentiments of the king, in these scenes, are drawn very closely after Davila, as the reader will easily see, from the Italian original subjoined in the notes. That picturesque historian had indeed anticipated almost all that even a poet could do, in conveying a portraiture, equally minute and striking, of the stormy period which he had undertaken to describe; and, had his powers of description been inferior, it is probable, that Dryden, hampered as he was, by restraints of prudence and delicacy, would not have chosen to go far beyond the authority to which he referred the lord chamberlain. The language of the play, at least in these scenes, seldom rises above that of the higher tone of historical oratory; and the descriptions are almost literally taken from Davila, and thrown into beautiful verse. In the character of Marmoutiere, there seems to be an allusion to the duchess of Buccleuch and Monmouth, whose influence was always, and sometimes successfully, used to detach her husband from the desperate schemes of Shaftesbury and Armstrong. The introduction of the necromancer, Malicorn, seems to refer to some artifices, by which the party of Monmouth endeavoured to call to their assistance the sanction of supernatural powers[3]. The particular story of Malicorn is said to be taken from a narrative in Rosset's _Histoires Tragiques_, a work which the present editor has never seen. In the conference between Malicorn and Melanax, Dryden has made much use of his astrological knowledge; and its mystical terms give a solemnity to the spirit's predictions, which was probably deepened by the poet's secret belief in this visionary study. As he borrowed liberally from Davila in the other parts of the play, he has not here disdained to use the assistance of Pulci, from whose romantic poem he has translated one or two striking passages, as the reader will find upon consulting the notes. The last scene betwixt the necromancer and the fiend is horribly fine: the description of the approach of the Evil One, and the effect which his presence produces upon the attendants, the domestic animals, and the wizard himself, is an instance, amongst many, of the powerful interest which may be produced by a judicious appeal to the early prejudices of superstition. I may be pardoned, however, when I add, that such scenes are, in general, unfit for the stage, where the actual appearance of a demon is apt to excite emotions rather ludicrous than terrific. Accordingly, that of Dryden failed in the representation. The circumstance, upon which the destruction of the wizard turns, is rather puerile; but there are many similar fables in the annals of popular superstition[4].

Lee's part of this play is, in general, very well written, and contains less rant than he usually puts in the mouths of his characters.

The factions have been long at rest which were so deeply agitated by the first representation of this performance; yet some pains has been taken to trace those points of resemblance, which gave so much offence to one party, and triumph to the other. Many must doubtless have escaped our notice; but enough remains to shew the singular felicity with which Dryden, in the present instance, as in that of "Absalom and Achitophel," could adapt the narrative of ancient or foreign transactions to the political events of his own time, and "moralize two meanings in one word." Altogether abstracted from this consideration, the "Duke of Guise," as a historical play, possesses merit amply sufficient to rescue it from the oblivion into which it has fallen.

The play was first acted 4th December, 1682, and encountered a stormy and dubious, if not an unfavourable, reception. But as, the strength of the court party increased, the piece was enabled to maintain its ground with more general approbation. It was performed by the united companies, and printed in 1683.

Footnotes:
1. I cannot resist transcribing that ballad, which cost poor College,
the protestant joiner, so extremely dear. It is extracted from Mr
Luttrell's collection, who has marked it thus. "A most scandalous
libel against the government, for which, with other things, College
was justly executed." The justice of the execution may, I think, be
questioned, unless, like Cinna the poet, the luckless ballad-monger
was hanged for his bad verses. There is prefixed a cut,
representing the king with a double face, carrying the house of
commons in a shew-box at his back. In another copartment, he sticks
fast in the mud with his burden. In another, Topham, the serjeant
of the house of commons, with the other officers of parliament,
liberate the members, and cram the bishops into the shew-box.

A RAREE SHOW.

To the tune of--"I am a senseless thing."

_Leviathan._

Come hither, Topham, come, with a hey, with a hey;
Bring a pipe and a drum, with a ho;
Where'er about I go,
Attend my raree show,
With a hey, trany, nony, nony, no.

_Topham._

That monstrous foul beast, with a hey, with a hey,
Has houses twain in's chest, with a ho;
O Cowper, Hughes, and Snow,
Stop thief with raree show,
With a hey, &c.

For if he should escape, with a hey, with a hey,
With Halifaxe's trap, with a ho,
He'll carry good Dom. Com.
Unto the pope of Rome,
With a hey, &c.

_Leviathan._

Be quiet, ye dull tools, with a hey, with a hey,
As other free-born fools, with a ho,
Do not all gaping stand
To see my slight of hand.
With a hey, &c.

'Tis not to Rome that I, with a hey, with a hey,
Lug about my trumpery, with a ho,
But Oxford, York, Carlisle,
And round about the isle,
With a hey, &c.

But if they would come out, with a hey, with a hey,
Let them first make a vote, with a ho.
To yield up all they have,
And Tower lords to save,
With a hey, &c.

_Topham._

Now that is very hard, with a hey, with a hey,
Thou art worse than cut-nose guard, with a ho.
And Clifford, Danby, Hide,
Halifax does all outride,
With a hey, &c.

Holy Ghost, in bag of cloak, with a hey, with a hey,
Quaking King in royal oak, with a ho.
And Rosamond in bower,
All badges are of power.
With a hey, &c.

And popularity, with a hey, with a hey,
Adds power to majesty, with a ho;
But Dom. Com. in little ease,
Will all the world displease,
With a hey, &c.

_Leviathan._

Let 'um hate me, so they fear, with a hey, with a hey,
Curst fox has the best cheer, with a ho;
Two states, in blind house pent,
Make brave strong government.
With a hey, &c.

_Topham._

But child of heathen Hobbes, with a hey, with a hey,
Remember old Dry Bobs, with a ho,
For fleecing England's flocks.
Long fed with bits and knocks,
With a hey, &c.

_Leviathan._

What's past is not to come, with a hey, with a hey,
Now safe is David's bum, with a ho;
Then hey for Oxford ho,
Strong government, raree show,
With a hey, &c.

Raree show is resouled, with a hey, with a hey,
This is worse than desouled, with a ho;
May the mighty weight at's back
Make's lecherous loins to crack,
With a hey, &c.

Methinks he seems to stagger, with a hey, with a hey,
Who but now did so swagger, with a ho;
God's fish he's stuck in the mire,
And all the fat's in the fire,
With a hey, &c.

Help Cooper, Hughs, and Snow, with a hey, with a hey,
To pull down raree show, with a ho:
So, so, the gyant's down,
Let's masters out of pound,
With a hey, &c.

And now you've freed the nation, with a hey, with a hey,
Cram in the convocation, with a ho,
With pensioners all and some.
Into this chest of Rome,
With a hey, &c.

And thrust in six-and-twenty, with a hey, with a hey.
With _not guilties_ good plenty, with a ho,
And hoot them hence away
To Cologn or Breda,
With a hey, &c.

Haloo, the hunt's begun, with a hey, with a hey,
Like father like son, with a ho;
Raree show in French lap
Is gone to take a nap,
And succession has the clap,
With a hey, trany, nony, nony, no.

2. "The news of his landing being reported by the watch, it soon
spread abroad through the whole city; insomuch, that before
day-light they rang the bells at St Giles in the Fields, placing
several flambeaus on the top of the steeple, and divers great
bonefires were made, two of which were very large, one in the
Palace-yard at Westminster, and the other in Thames-street, near
the custom-house, which was kindled in the morning, and maintained
burning all day till evening, and then the universal joy of the
people was expressed in most of the streets throughout London and
Westminster by bone-fires, fireworks, and ringing of bells,
accompanied with loud acclamations of joy, to the great grief of
the papists." _An Account of the heroick Life and magnanimous
Actions of the most illustrious Protestant Prince, James, Duke of
Monmouth._ London, 1683. p. 95.

3. "A relation was published in the name of one Elizabeth Freeman,
afterwards called the mayor of Hatfield, setting forth, that, on
the 24th of January, the apparition of a woman, all in white [the
Duke of Monmouth's mother was here to be understood], with a white
veil over her face, accosted her with these words; 'Sweetheart, the
15th of May is appointed for the blood-royal to be poisoned. Be not
afraid, for I am sent to tell thee.' That on the 27th the same
appearance stood before her again, and she having then acquired
courage enough to lay it under the usual adjuration, in the name,
&c. it assumed a more glorious shape, and said in a harsher tone of
voice, 'Tell King Charles from me, and bid him not remove his
parliament (i.e. from London to Oxford), and stand to his council;'
adding, 'Do as I bid you.' That on the 26th, it appeared to her a
third time, but said only, 'Do your message;' and that on the next
night, when she saw it for the last time, it said nothing at all.
Those, who depend upon the people for support, must try all manner
of practices upon them, and such fooleries as these sometimes
operate more forcibly than experiments of a more rational kind.
Care was besides taken to have this relation attested by Sir Joseph
Jordan, a justice of peace, and the rector of Hatfield, Dr Lee, who
was one of the king's chaplains. Nay, the message was actually sent
to his majesty, and the whole forgery very officially circulated
over the kingdom." RALPH'S _History_ Vol. I. p. 562.

4. In truth, the devil and the conjuror did not always play upon the
square, but often took the most unfair advantages of each other.
There is more than one instance of bad faith in the history of that
renowned enchanter, Peter Fabel. On one occasion, he prevailed upon
the devil, when he came to carry him off, to repose himself in an
enchanted chair, from which he refused to liberate him, until he
had granted him an additional lease of seven years. When this term
was also expired, he had the eloquence and art to prevail on the
fiend to allow him a farther respite, till a wax taper, then nearly
expiring, was burned out. This boon being granted, he instantly put
out the light, and deposited the taper in the church at Edmonton.
Hence, in Weiver's "Funeral Monuments," he is thus mentioned: "Here
(at Edmonton) lieth interred, under a seemly tombe without
inscription, the body of Peter Fabell, as the report goes, upon
whom this fable was fathered, that he, by his wittie devices,
beguiled the devill." p 514. See also the _Book of his Merry
Prankes_. Another instance occurs, in the famous history of Friar
Bacon, (London 1666) where that renowned conjurer is recorded to
have saved a man, that had given himself to the devil on condition
of his debts being paid. "The case was referred to the friar.
'Deceiver of mankind, said he (speaking to the devil), it was thy
bargain never to meddle with him so long as he was indebted to any;
now how canst thou demand of him any thing, when he is indebted for
all he hath to thee? When he payeth thee thy money, then take him
as thy due; till then thou hast nothing to do with him; and so I
charge thee to be gone.' At this the devil vanished with great
horrour; but Fryar Bacon comforted the gentleman, and sent him home
with a quiet conscience, bidding him never to pay the devil's money
back, as he tendred his own safety, which he promised for to
observe." From these instances, Melanax might have quoted precedent
for insisting on the literal execution of his stipulation with
Malicorn, since, to give the devil his due, the strict legal
interpretation appears always to have been applied to bargains of
that nature.

TO

THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

LAWRENCE,

EARL OF ROCHESTER, &c.[1]

MY LORD,

The authors of this poem present it humbly to your lordship's patronage, if you shall think it worthy of that honour. It has already been a confessor, and was almost made a martyr for the royal cause: but having stood two trials from its enemies,--one before it was acted, another in the representation,--and having been in both acquitted, it is now to stand the public censure in the reading: where since, of necessity, it must have the same enemies, we hope it may also find the same friends; and therein we are secure, not only of the greater number, but of the more honest and loyal party. We only expected bare justice in the permission to have it acted; and that we had, after a severe and long examination, from an upright and knowing judge, who, having heard both sides, and examined the merits of the cause, in a strict perusal of the play, gave sentence for us, that it was neither a libel, nor a parallel of particular persons[2]. In the representation itself, it was persecuted with so notorious malice by one side, that it procured us the partiality of the other; so that the favour more than recompensed the prejudice. And it is happier to have been saved (if so we were) by the indulgence of our good and faithful fellow-subjects, than by our own deserts; because, thereby the weakness of the faction is discovered, which, in us, at that time attacked the government, and stood combined, like the members of the rebellious League, against the lawful sovereign authority. To what topic will they have recourse, when they are manifestly beaten from their chief post, which has always been popularity, and majority of voices? They will tell us,--that the voices of a people are not to be gathered in a play-house; and yet, even there, the enemies, as well as friends, have free admission: but, while our argument was serviceable to their interests, they could boast, that the theatres were true protestant; and came insulting to the plays, when their own triumphs were represented[3]. But let them now assure themselves, that they can make the major part of no assembly, except it be of a meeting-house[4]. Their tide of popularity is spent; and the natural current of obedience is, in spite of them, at last prevalent. In which, my lord, after the merciful providence of God, the unshaken resolution, and prudent carriage of the king, and the inviolable duty, and manifest innocence of his royal highness,--the prudent management of the ministers is also most conspicuous. I am not particular in this commendation, because I am unwilling to raise envy to your lordship, who are too just, not to desire that praise should be communicated to others, which was the common endeavour and co-operation of all. It is enough, my lord, that your own part was neither obscure in it, nor unhazardous. And if ever this excellent government, so well established by the wisdom of our forefathers, and so much shaken by the folly of this age, shall recover its ancient splendour, posterity cannot be so ungrateful as to forget those, who, in the worst of times, have stood undaunted by their king and country, and, for the safeguard of both, have exposed themselves to the malice of false patriots, and the madness of an headstrong rabble. But since this glorious work is yet unfinished, and though we have reason to hope well of the success, yet the event depends on the unsearchable providence of Almighty God, it is no time to raise trophies, while the victory is in dispute; but every man, by your example, to contribute what is in his power to maintain so just a cause, on which depends the future settlement and prosperity of three nations. The pilot's prayer to Neptune was not amiss in the middle of the storm: "Thou mayest do with me, O Neptune, what thou pleasest, but I will be sure to hold fast the rudder." We are to trust firmly in the Deity, but so as not to forget, that he commonly works by second causes, and admits of our endeavours with his concurrence. For our own parts, we are sensible, as we ought, how little we can contribute with our weak assistance. The most we can boast of, is, that we are not so inconsiderable as to want enemies, whom we have raised to ourselves on no other account than that we are not of their number; and, since that is their quarrel, they shall have daily occasion to hate us more. It is not, my lord, that any man delights to see himself pasquined and affronted by their inveterate scribblers; but, on the other side, it ought to be our glory, that themselves believe not of us what they write. Reasonable men are well satisfied for whose sakes the venom of their party is shed on us; because they see, that at the same time our adversaries spare not those to whom they owe allegiance and veneration. Their despair has pushed them to break those bonds; and it is observable, that the lower they are driven, the more violently they write; as Lucifer and his companions were only proud when angels, but grew malicious when devils. Let them rail, since it is the only solace of their miseries, and the only revenge which, we hope, they now can take. The greatest and the best of men are above their reach; and, for our meanness, though they assault us like footpads in the dark, their blows have done us little harm: we yet live to justify ourselves in open day, to vindicate our loyalty to the government, and to assure your lordship, with all submission and sincerity, that we are

YOUR LORDSHIP'S
Most obedient, faithful servants,
JOHN DRYDEN.
NAT. LEE.

Footnotes:
1. Lawrence Hyde, created Earl of Rochester in 1682, was the second
son of the famous Lord Clarendon, and affords a rare instance of
the son of a disgraced minister recovering that favour at court,
which had been withdrawn from his father. He was now at the head of
the Commissioners for the Treasury, and a patron of our poet; as
appears from the terms of Dryden's letter, soliciting his interest
in very affecting terms, and from the subsequent dedication of
"Cleomenes," where he acknowledges his lordship's goodness during
the reign of two masters; and that, even from a bare treasury, his
success was contrary to that of Mr Cowley; Gideon's fleece having
been moistened, when all the ground was dry around it. The Earl of
Rochester was the more proper patron for the "Duke of Guise," as he
was a violent opponent of the bill of exclusion. He was Lord High
Treasurer in the reign of James II., and died in 1711.

2. Henry Bennet, Earl of Arlington, then Lord Chamberlain.

3. Dryden seems here to allude to the triumphant strain in which
Shadwell mentions the reception of "The Lancashire Witches:" "I
could not imagine," he says, "till I heard that great opposition
was designed against the play a month before it was acted, by a
party who, being ashamed to say it was for the sake of the Irish
priest, pretended that I had written a satire on the Church of
England; and several profest Papists railed at it violently before
they had seen it, alleging that for a reason, such dear friends
they are to our Church: and, notwithstanding all was put out that
could any way be wrested to an offence against the Church, yet they
came with the greatest malice in the world to hiss it; and many,
that called themselves Protestants, joined with them in that noble
enterprise.

"But, for all this, they came resolved to hiss it, right or wrong,
and had gotten mercenary fellows, who were such fools they did not
know when to hiss; and this was evident to all the audience. It was
wonderful to see men of great quality, and gentlemen, in so mean a
combination; but, to my great satisfaction, they came off as meanly
as I could wish. I had so numerous an assembly of the best sort of
men, who stood so generously in my defence for the three first
days, that they quashed all the vain attempts of my enemies; the
inconsiderable party of hissers yielded, and the play lived in
spite of them.

"Had it been never so bad, I had valued the honour of having so
many and such friends as eminently appeared for me, above that of
excelling the most admirable Jonson, if it were possible to be done
by me."

This flourish of exultation contains many things which were
doubtless offensive to Dryden's jealousy of dramatic fame, as well
as to his political principles. Nor was he probably insensible to
the affected praise bestowed on Jonson, whose merit, it was
fashionable to say, he had attempted to depreciate.

4. The greater, and, perhaps, the most formidable, part of those who
now opposed the court, were the remnants of the old fanatics, whose
religious principles were shocked by the dissolute manners of
Charles and his courtiers. These, of course, added little to the
force of the party in the theatres, which they never frequented.
Shadwell seems to acknowledge this disadvantage in the epilogue to
"The Lancashire Witches:"

Our Popes and friars on one side offend,
And yet, alas! the city's not our friend:
The city neither like us nor our wit,
They say their wives learn ogling in the pit;
They're from the boxes taught to make advances,
To answer stolen sighs and naughty glances.
We virtuous ladies some new ways must seek,
For all conspire our playing trade to break.

But although the citizens declined to frequent even the plays
written on their own side of the question, Armstrong, and the
personal followers of Monmouth, were of a gayer complexion, and
doubtless, as they were not inferior to the courtiers in the
licence assumed by the age, formed the principal part of the
audience at the protestant plays. The discovery of the Rye-house
Plot broke the strength of this part of the confederacy, and the
odium attending that enterprise rendered their opposition to the
court in public assemblies both fruitless and dangerous.