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Rh Henry? Here Shakespeare, Sheridan, and Goldsmith are the only three old dramatists who have continually been played, and many of those readers who consider themselves well-educated have neglected the existence of any besides these, and perhaps Marlowe, Ben Jonson, and Congreve. Several of the plays recently produced by the Phoenix have not been acted in England for over a century. Thus those who have a little knowledge of this tremendous literature have been given the exciting opportunity of seeing acted some of its masterpieces, and others—a remarkable number indeed—have made at these performances their first acquaintance with some of the greatest plays ever written by man. Last summer two plays by Dryden were given, All for Love and Amphitryon: the greatness of Dryden as dramatist, critic, and poet can hardly be exaggerated. During this season we have had The Jew of Malta, 'Tis Pity She's a Whore, and The Alchemist. (If there is any reader of who does not know these five plays, I beg him or her to put down this Letter without finishing it, and immediately read them.) To my infinite disappointment I missed the Marlowe, but in spite of serious inequalities in the acting and production Ford's tragedy and Jonson's comedy made two of the most impressive performances any one could see. As a warning to any American who may be inspired to produce such plays, I can state that a highly unsuitable taste for "cuts" seems to be taking hold of those responsible for these productions. If it is easy to exaggerate the damage that "cuts" do, it is grotesque to want them.

At Cambridge an amateur society of undergraduates, the Marlowe, has been formed for doing similar work, so that it should soon be possible to see acted all the masterpieces of sixteenth and seventeenth century drama, and also to discover which of the less obviously magnificent plays stand best the test of stage performance.

"I never go to the theatre except when I'm drunk," said one of the most intelligent and rightly eminent men in England the other day. "Drunk" is of course a façon de parler—but the fact remains that there is no theatre in England to interest educated people except the Phoenix and the Stage Society. "To instruct delightfully," says Dryden, "is the general end of all poetry." I suggest to the Citizens of the United States that in no way could they gain at once more instruction and delight than by forming a society like our Phoenix for the performance of the masterpieces of old dramatic art.