him! The devil
for his money, would he say, I would fain see the devil.' And Gossip
Mirth adds a description of the Devil as she knew him: 'As fine a
gentleman of his inches as ever I saw trusted to the stage, or any where
else; and loved the commonwealth as well as ever a patriot of them all;
he would carry away the Vice on his back, quick to hell, in every play
where he came, and reform abuses' (Ben Jonson's _The Staple of News_).
But our present purpose is with Nichol Newfangle and his arch-prompter.
Nevertheless these few general remarks will save us from the necessity
of returning to the subject later. The truth of the matter is that here,
in _Like Will to Like_, we have as full a delineation of these two
popular characters as may be found in any of the Interludes. Our
attention will not be misplaced if we pry a little closer into the
method of presentation.

The Vice must be merry; that above all. Accordingly the stage-direction
at the opening of the play reads thus, 'Here entereth Nichol Newfangle
the Vice, laughing, and hath a knave of clubs in his hand which, as soon
as he speaketh, he offereth unto one of the men or boys standing by.' He
is apparently on familiar terms already with the 'gallery' (or, in the
term of that day, 'groundlings'); as intimate as the modern clown with
his stage-asides for the exclusive benefit of 'the gods'. When we read
the first two lines we perceive the wit of the card trick:

Ha, ha, ha, ha! now like unto like; it will be none other:
Stoop, gentle knave, and take up your brother.

We can almost hear the shout of laughter at the expense of the fellow
who unwittingly took the card. The audience is with Newfangle at once.
He has scored his first point and given a capital send-off to the play
by this comically-conceived illustration of the meaning of its strange
title. Forthwith he rattles along with a string of patter about himself,
who he is, what sciences he learnt in hell before he was born, and so
on, until arrested by the abrupt entrance of another person. This
newcomer somersaults on to the stage and cuts divers uncouth capers
exactly as our 'second clown' does at the pantomime. Newfangle stares,
grimaces, and, turning again to the audience, continues:

_Sancte benedicite_, whom have we here
Tom Tumbler, or else some dancing bear?
Body of me, it were best go no near:
For ought that I see, it is my godfather Lucifer,
Whose prentice I have been th