Our first burlesque, then, was a satire upon exaggerated fiction. Our second was a satire upon extravagant plays. It is possible that "The Rehearsal" was represented before "The Knight of the Burning Pestle" left the boards. Begun in 1663, and ready for production before 1665, it was first performed in 1671. It is ascribed to George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham; but probably there were several hands engaged in it. It was the outcome of the boredom and the laughter caused by the wildness and bombast of the Restoration plays. There were some things in the stage of that day which the wits could not abide:-- Here brisk insipid rogues, for wit, let fall Sometimes dull sense; but oft'ner none at all. There, strutting heroes, with a grim-fac'd train, Shall brave the gods, in King Cambyses' vein. For (changing rules, of late, as if man writ In spite of reason, nature, art, and wit) Our poets make us laugh at tragedy, And with their comedies they make us cry. So runs the prologue to "The Rehearsal," which was destined to strike the first blow at the mechanical dramas that had succeeded the masterpieces of the Shakespearian period. Bayes, the playwright whose tragedy is supposed to be "rehearsed," is usually accepted as a skit upon Dryden, whose dress, speech, and manner were openly mimicked by Lacy, the interpreter of the part. But there is reason to believe that Davenant first sat for the portrait, and in the end Bayes became a sort of incarnated parody of all the Restoration playwrights. This preposterous play travesties a whole school of dramatic writing. Dramas by Dryden, Davenant, James and Henry Howard, Mrs. Behn, and Sir William Killigrew and others, are directly satirised in certain passages; but in the main the satire is general. For instance, in one place fun is made of the prevalence of similes in the dramas aimed at. Prince Prettyman, in the rehearsed play, falls asleep, and Chloris, coming in, finds him in that situation:-- _Bayes._ Now, here she must make a simile. _Smith_ (one of the spectators). Where's the necessity of that, Mr. Bayes? _Bayes._ Because she's surpris'd. That's a general rule: you must ever make a simile when you are surpris'd; 'tis the new way of writing. Elsewhere it is confusion of metaphor, very common among the second-rate "tragedians," that is derided. Says the physician in the play:-- All these threat'ning storms, which, like impregnant clouds, do hover o'er our heads (when once they are grasped but by the eye of reason), melt into fruitful showers of blessings on the people. _Bayes._ Pray mark that allegory. Is not that good? _Johnson_ (another spectator). Yes, that grasping of a storm with the eye is admirable.