Charles II., again, was passionately fond of theatrical entertainments. On one occasion, when Sir William Davenant’s play of “Love and Honour” was first acted, his Majesty presented Betterton, the actor, with his coronation suit, in which the player performed the character of Prince Alonzo. The Duke of York followed his Majesty’s example by giving the suit which he had worn on the same occasion to Hains, who acted the part of Prince Prospero. Previous to the Restoration of Charles II., it may be remembered, no woman was allowed on the stage, in connection with which Colley Cibber gives this anecdote: The King coming to the house rather before his usual time, found the _dramatis personæ_ not ready to appear, whereupon he sent one of his attendants to ascertain the cause of the delay. The manager at once went to the royal box, and informed the merry monarch that “the queen was not yet shaved.” Charles good-humouredly accepted the explanation, and laughed heartily, until the male queen was effeminated and the curtain drew up. At the time of James II. playhouses, and players, were constantly anathematised by the clergy, and the Duchess of York had a strong moral objection to the coarse comedies of the era. But she liked a good play, and was wont to remark that “there was no sin, she believed, in going to theatres, provided the pieces selected for representation were not of an objectionable character; but that the stage might and ought to be rendered a medium of conveying moral instruction to the people, instead of flattering and inculcating vice.” Mary II. was a patron of the drama, and, in 1689, she expressed a wish to see Dryden’s “Spanish Friar” performed, which had been forbidden by James II. because its licentious comic scenes held up the Romish Church to ridicule. But her Majesty was disappointed, for, to quote the words of her friend Nottingham, “the only time she gave herself the diversion of a play has furnished the town with discourse for a month. Some unlucky expressions confused her, and forced her to hold up her fan, often look behind her, and call for her palatine or hood, or anything she could contrive to speak of to her woman. Every speech in that play seemed to come home to her, as there was a strong report about town that her father, James II., was dead in Ireland; and when anything applicable was said, every one in the pit turned their heads over their shoulders, and directed their looks most pointedly at her.” “Nor,” as Miss Strickland writes, “could this be wondered at; for a daughter sitting to see a play acted, which was too free for the morals of that age, at the moment when reports were prevalent that her own father was dead, was indeed a sight to be gazed upon with consternation.”