Think what you please, we call it but a “play:” 
Whether the comic muse, or lady’s love,
Romance or direful tragedy it prove,
The bill determines not.

From a later passage in the same prologue Mr. Collier judges that the titles of tragedies were usually printed, for the sake of distinction, in red ink: 

              ——­and you would be
    Persuaded I would have’t a comedy
    For all the purple in the name.

But this may be a reference to the colour of a cardinal’s robes.  There is probably no playbill extant of an earlier date than 1663.  About this time, in the case of a new play, it was usual to state in the bill that it had been “never acted before.”

In the earliest days of the stage, before the invention of printing, the announcement that theatrical performances were about to be exhibited was made by sound of trumpet, much after the manner of modern strollers and showmen at fairs and street-corners.  Indeed, long after playbills had become common, this musical advertisement was still requisite for the due information of the unlettered patrons of the stage.  In certain towns the musicians were long looked upon as the indispensable heralds of the actors.  Tate Wilkinson, writing in 1790, records that a custom obtained at Norwich, “and if abolished it has not been many years,” of proclaiming in every street with drum and trumpet the performances to be presented at the theatre in the evening.  A like practice also prevailed at Grantham.  To the Lincolnshire company of players, however, this musical preface to their efforts seemed objectionable and derogatory, and they determined, on one of their visits to the town, to dispense with the old-established sounds.  But the reform resulted in empty benches.  Thereupon the “revered, well-remembered, and beloved Marquis of Granby” sent for the manager of the troop and thus addressed him:  “Mr. Manager, I like a play; I like a player; and I shall be glad to serve you.  But, my good friend, why are you all so offended at and averse to the noble sound of a drum?  I like it, and all the inhabitants like it.  Put my name on your playbill, provided you drum, but not otherwise.  Try the effect on to-morrow night; if then you are as thinly attended as you have lately been, shut up your playhouse at once; but if it succeeds, drum away!” The players withdrew their opposition and followed the counsel of the marquis.  The musical prelude was again heard in the streets of Grantham, and crowded houses were obtained.  The company enjoyed a prosperous season, and left the town in great credit.  “And I am told,” adds Wilkinson, “the custom is continued at Grantham to this day.”