A famed contemporary of Udal was Richard Mulcaster, head-master of St. Paul’s school, and afterward of Merchant Taylors’, concerning whom we have, from delightful old Fuller, this quaint and naive description: 

In a morning he would exactly and plainly construe and parse the lesson to his scholars, which done, he slept his hour (custom made him critical to proportion it) in his desk in the school; but woe be to the scholar that slept the while.  Awaking, he heard them accurately; and Atropos might be persuaded to pity as soon as he to pardon where he found just fault.  The prayers of cockering mothers prevailed with him just as much as the requests of indulgent fathers, rather increasing than mitigating his severity on their offending children.

The name of this Rhadamanthus of the birch occurs twice in entries of Elizabeth’s paymaster, as receiving money for plays acted before her; and a certain proficiency as actors possessed by students of St. John’s College at Oxford is ascribed to training given by old Mulcaster at the Merchant Taylors’ school.

But no one of the great English public schools has enjoyed so long a fame in this regard as Westminster.  According to Staunton, in his Great schools of England, Elizabeth desired to have plays acted by the boys, “Quo juventus turn actioni tum pronunciationi decenti melius se assuescat,” that the youth might be better trained in proper bearing and pronunciation.  The noted Bishop Atterbury wrote to a friend, Trelawney, Bishop of Winchester, concerning a performance here of Trelawney’s son:  “I had written to your lordship again on Saturday, but that I spent the evening in seeing Phormio acted in the college chamber, where, in good truth, my lord, Mr. Trelawney played Antipho extremely well, and some parts he performed admirably.”  In 1695, Dryden’s play of Cleomens was acted.  Archbishop Markham, head-master one hundred years ago, gave a set of scenes designed by Garrick.  In our own day, Dr. Williamson, head-master in 1828, drew attention in a pamphlet to the proper costuming of the performers; and when, in 1847, there was a talk of abolishing the plays, a memorial signed by six hundred old “Westminsters” was sent in, stating it as their “firm and deliberate belief, founded on experience and reflection, that the abolition of the Westminster play cannot fail to prove prejudicial to the interests and prosperity of the school.”  At the present time the best plays of Plautus and Terence are performed at Christmas in the school dormitory.

It all became excessive, and in Cromwell’s time, with the accession of the Puritans to power, like a hundred other brilliant traits of the old English life from whose abuse had grown riot, it was purged away.  Ben Jonson, in The Staple of Newes, puts into the mouth of a sour character a complaint which no doubt was becoming common in that day, and was probably well enough justified.