Of course it was impossible that such things, themselves the offspring of darkness, should stand the light.  None but children in mind could mistake them for truth, or keep up any real sympathy with such unvital motions.  Precluded from the endless variety of individual nature and character, they could not but run into great monotony:  in fact, the whole thing was at best little more than a repetition of one fundamental air under certain arbitrary variations.  As the matter shown was always much the same, the interest had to depend chiefly on the manner of showing it; and this naturally generated a cumbrous and clumsy excess of manner; unless indeed the thing drew beyond itself; while in doing this it could scarce fail to create a taste that would sooner or later force it to withdraw from the scene.

Accordingly, Moral-Plays, as we have seen, began, early in their course, to deviate into veins foreign to their original design:  points of native humour and wit, and lines of personal interest were taken in to diversify and relieve the allegorical sameness; and these grew more and more into the main texture of the workmanship.  As the new elements gained strength, much of the old treasure proved to be mere refuge and dross; as such it was discarded; while so much of sterling wealth as had been accumulated was sucked in, retained, and carried up into the supervening growth.

The beginnings, then, of English Comedy and Tragedy were made long before these appeared in distinct formation.  And the first known hand that drew off the elements of Comedy, and moulded them up by themselves, was John Heywood, who belonged to the theatrical and musical establishment of Henry the Eighth.  His pieces, however, have not the form of regular comedies.  He called them Interludes, a name in use many years before, and probably adopted by him as indicating the purpose to which he designed them, of filling the gaps or intervals of banquets and other entertainments.  They are short, not taking much more time than a single act in an ordinary comedy.  Yet they have the substance of comedy, in that they give pictures of real life and manners, containing much sprightliness of dialogue, and not a little of humour and character, and varied with amusing incident and allusion drawn fresh from the writer’s observation, with the dews of nature upon them.

Heywood’s earliest piece, printed in 1533, is entitled A merry Play between the Pardoner and the Friar, the Curate and Neighbour Pratt.  A Pardoner and a Friar have each got leave of the Curate to use his church, the one to exhibit his relics, the other to preach a sermon.  The Friar comes first, and is about to begin his preachment, when the other enters and disturbs him:  each wants to be heard first; and, after a long trial which has the stronger lungs, they fall into a regular performance of mutual kicking and cuffing.  The Curate, aroused to the spot by the noise, endeavours to part them;