tastes and predilections. A strong interest in classical antiquity is
apparent in numerous allusions to ancient history and mythology,
allusions particularly plentiful in _The Anti-Theatre_; an intelligent
reverence for the writings of Shakespeare may be observed in a series
of admiring references; and from his repeated remarks about Spain and
Spanish literature, both in _The Anti-Theatre_ and in The Theatre, we
may probably conclude that he had some special knowledge of that
country and its literature. But all of this can be but speculation. We
know nothing positively about Falstaffe except that he wrote a series of
engaging essays.
Falstaffe's Theatre is reproduced, with permission, from the papers in
the Folger Shakespeare Library.
John Loftis Princeton University
Numb. XVI
THE
THEATRE.
By Sir JOHN FALSTAFFE.
To be Continued every Tuesday and Saturday.
Price Two-pence.
_I am Myself, but call me What you please._
South. in Oroon.
Saturday, _April 9. 1720._
Men, that like myself, set up for being Wits, and dictating to the World
in a censorial Way, should like Oracles endeavour to be barely heard,
but never have it distinguish'd from whence the Voice comes. Faith and
Reputation have ever been built on Doubt and Mystery, and sometimes
the Art of being unintelligible does not a little advance the Credit of a
Writer. There are many Reasons why we, who take upon Us the Task
of Diurnal or Weekly Lucubrations, should be like the River Nilus,
sending abroad fertile Streams to every Quarter, and still keeping our
Heads undiscover'd. But why should I be compell'd to give Reasons for
every thing? Were Reasons as plenty as Blackberries, as my worthy
Ancestor was wont to say, I would not give a Reason upon Compulsion.
I have confess'd to the World I am a Knight (nor am I asham'd to own it,
tho' 'tis a Condescension as Knighthood goes;) and my Name is _John
Falstaffe_; must they have too a Tree of my Pedigree, and a Direction
to my Lodgings? 'Tis ill-Manners to pluck the Masque off, when we
would not be known: besides that, Curiosity has lost Men many a
Blessing, and plung'd the Discoverers into signal Calamities; as witness
Oedipus, and the Oracle, _Lot's_ Wife, Orpheus and Eurydice, and
several other true and ancient Histories, which I have something else to
do than think of at present.
It was an Opinion growing apace in the Town, that Sir John Edgar and
I were one and the same Man: but from what Tract or Circumstance
this Notion sprung, I can neither learn nor guess. I mounted the Stage
as the Adversary, and he accepted my Challenge: upon which I attack'd
him with such Weapons as Men of Learning commonly use against one
another, yet he declin'd the Combat. I was by This in Generosity
compell'd to desist from pursuing him, yet every now and then I took
upon me to reprimand him, when I observ'd him too free in the Use of
certain Figures in Rhetorick, which are the common Dialect of a Part of
the Town famous for good Fish and Female Orators. Thus he
continued his Course of Writing, sometimes very obscure, sometimes
too plain: according as either Vapours, or Spleen, or Love, or
Resentment, or French Wine predominated; which I, by my Skill in
Natural Philosophy observing, thought it advisable to leave him to
himself, till the Court of Chancery should appoint him a proper
Guardian. I cannot deny, but that we shook Hands behind the Curtain,
and have been very good Friends for these eight Papers last, have been
merry without any Gall, he regarding me as a Gentleman Philosopher,
and I looking upon him as an inoffensive Humorist.
I confess that it contributes much to my Peace of Soul, that we were
reconcil'd before his Departure from this Stage of Business and of Life.
The Reader will hereby understand that Sir John is dead: It is for this
Reason that I appear in his Dress, that I assume his Habit de Guerre,
for Sir John chose me, from among all Men living, to be his sole
Executor. The Printer had no black Letter by him, otherwise this Paper
(as in Decency it ought) should have appear'd in Mourning: however I
shall use as much Ceremony as the Time will allow; and, as Hob did in
the Farce by the Man that hang'd himself, _I take up his Cloak, and am
chief Mourner_.
We never can do the Memory of a Great Man more Justice, than by
being particular in his Conduct and Behaviour at the Point of Death. Sir
John, tho' a Wit, took no Pains to shew it at his latest Hour, that is, he
did not dye like one of those prophane Wits, who bid the Curtains be
drawn, and said the Farce of Life
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