“The Fair Maid of the West” is one of Heywood’s most characteristic works, and one of his most delightful plays.  Inartistic as this sort of dramatic poem may seem to the lovers of theatrical composition and sensational arrangement, of emotional calculations and premeditated shocks, it has a place of its own, and a place of honor, among the incomparably various forms of noble and serious drama which English poets of the Shakespearean age conceived, created, and left as models impossible to reproduce or to rival in any generation of poets or readers, actors or spectators, after the decadent forces of English genius in its own most natural and representative form of popular and creative activity had finally shrivelled up and shuddered into everlasting inanition under the withering blast of Puritanism.  Before that blight had fallen upon the country of Shakespeare, the variety and fertility of dramatic form and dramatic energy which distinguished the typical imagination or invention of his countrymen can only be appreciated or conceived by students of what yet is left us of the treasure bequeathed by the fellows and the followers of Shakespeare.  Every other man who could speak or write at all was a lyric poet, a singer of beautiful songs, in the generation before Shakespeare’s:  every other such man in Shakespeare’s was a dramatic poet above or beyond all comparison with any later claimant of the title among Shakespeare’s countrymen.  One peculiarly and characteristically English type of drama which then flourished here and there among more ambitious if not more interesting forms or varieties, and faded forever with the close of the age of Shakespeare, was the curious and delightful kind of play dealing with records or fictions of contemporary adventure.  The veriest failures in this line have surely something of national and historical interest; telling us as they do of the achievements or in any case of the aspirations and the ideals, the familiar traditions and ambitions and admirations, of our simplest and noblest forefathers.  Even such a play as that in which the adventures of the Shirleys were hurried and huddled into inadequate and incoherent presentation as “The Travels of Three English Brothers,” however justly it may offend or dissatisfy the literary critic, can hardly be without attraction for the lover of his country:  curiosity may be disappointed of its hope, yet patriotism may find matter for its sympathy.  And if so much may be said on behalf of a poetic and dramatic failure, this and far more than this may be claimed on behalf of such plays as “The Fair Maid of the West” and “Fortune by Land and Sea.”  Of these the first is certainly the better play:  I should myself be inclined to rank it among Heywood’s very best.  He never wrote anything brighter, sprightlier, livelier or fuller of life and energy:  more amusing in episodical incident or by-play, more interesting and attractive in the structure or the progress of the main story.  No modern heroine with so strong