loyalty being rounded off with a hymn.

This play, though so much later in date than _Hick Scorner_, shows no
improvement in plot. Nor, perhaps, ought we to expect that it should. An
Interlude, as its name implies, was originally only a kind of stop-gap,
an entree of light entertainment between other events; and what so
welcome for this purpose as the inconsequential dialogue, by-play, and
mutual trickery of sundry 'lewd fellows of the baser sort'? When it
extended its sphere from the castle banqueting-hall to the street or
inn-yard no greater excellence was expected from it. Its brevity saved
it from tediousness, and the Virtues, whom the lingering influence of
religion upon the drama saved from the wreck of the Morality Plays, were
given a more and more subordinate place. In this play they serve to
point the moral by showing the reward that comes to righteousness in
sharp contrast to the poverty and vile death that are the meed of
wickedness. But it is noticeable that they are quite apart from the
other group, much more so than was the case in _Hick Scorner_.

Instead of a plot we find an increasing admixture of buffoonery, without
which no Interlude could be regarded as complete. Herein we see the
influence of certain farcical entertainments brought over by the Norman
_jongleurs_ (or travelling minstrel-comedians). Just as the French
_fabliaux_ inspired Chaucer's coarser tales, so the French _farce_
stimulated the natural inclination of the English taste to broad humour
and rough-and-tumble buffoonery on the stage. Held in some restraint by
the dominant religious element, it grew stronger as the latter weakened.
Thus, in _Like Will to Like_ a certain Hance enters half-intoxicated,
roaring out a drinking song until the sudden collapse of his voice
compels him to recite the rest in the thick stutter of a drunken man. He
carries a pot of ale in his hand, from which he drinks to the health of
Tom Tosspot, giving the toast with a 'Ca-ca-carouse to-to-to thee,
go-go-good Tom'--which is but an indifferent hexameter. At the
suggestion of Newfangle 'he danceth as evil-favoured as may be demised,
and in the dancing he falleth down, and when he riseth he must groan',
according to the stage-direction. When he does rise, doubtless with
unlimited comicality of effort, he staggers into a chair and proceeds to
snore loudly. All this is accompanied by a fitting fashion of
conversation. We can only hope that the author's attempts at