There are certain exuberances that naturally grow in religion, government, and private life which may with propriety be attacked by the poet and the comedian, but which can scarcely be reduced by any other power.  While the stage therefore keeps this great end in view, it answers a valuable purpose to the community.  The poet should use his pen to reform, not to indulge a corrupt age, as was the case in the days of Charles the Second, when indecency was brought on to raise the laugh.

Perhaps there is no period of time in which the stage was less polluted, owing to the inimitable Garrick, than the present:  notwithstanding there is yet room for improvement.

Tragedy is to melt the heart, by exhibiting the unfortunate; satiate revenge, by punishing the unjust tyrant:  To discard vice, and to keep undue passions within bounds.

Comedy holds up folly in a ridiculous light:  Whatever conduct or character is found in the regions of absurdity, furnishes proper materials for the stage; and out of these, the pen of a master will draw many useful lessons.

The pulpit and the stage have nearly the same use, but not in the same line—­That of improving the man.

The English stage opened about the conquest, and was wholly confined to religion; in whose service it continued, with very little intermission, to the extinction of the Plantagenets.  The play-houses were the churches, the principal actors the priests, and the performances taken from scripture; such as the Fall of Man, the Story of Joseph, Sampson, Histories of the Saints, the Sufferings of Christ, Resurrection, Day of Judgment, &c.

Theatrical exhibition in Birmingham, is rather of a modern date.  As far as memory can penetrate, the stroller occupied, occasionally, a shed of boards in the fields, now Temple-street:  Here he acted the part of Distress, in a double capacity.  The situation was afterwards changed, but not the eminence, and the Hinkleys dignified the performers booth!

In about 1730, the amusements of the stage rose in a superior stile of elegance, and entered something like a stable in Castle-street.  Here the comedian strutted in painted rags, ornamented with tinsel:  The audience raised a noisy laugh, half real and half forced, at three-pence a head.

In about 1740, a theatre was erected in Moor-street, which rather gave a spring to the amusement; in the day time the comedian beat up for volunteers for the night, delivered his bills of fare, and roared out an encomium on the excellence of the entertainment, which had not always the desired effect.

In 1751, a company arrived, which anounced themselves, “His Majesty’s servants, from the theatres-royal in London; and hoped the public would excuse the ceremony of the drum, as beneath the dignity of a London company.”  The novelty had a surprising effect; the performers had merit; the house was continually crouded; the general conversation turned upon theatrical exhibition, and the town was converted into one vast theatre.