It is not unknown to you, that about sixteen years since I published
“Specimens of English Dramatic Poets, who lived about the Time of
Shakspeare.” For the scarcer Plays I had recourse to the Collection
bequeathed to the British Museum by Mr. Garrick. But my time was but
short, and my subsequent leisure has discovered in it a treasure rich
and exhaustless beyond what I then imagined. In it is to be found almost
every production in the shape of a Play that has appeared in print, from
the time of the old Mysteries and Moralities to the days of Crown and
D’Urfey. Imagine the luxury to one like me, who, above every other form
of Poetry, have ever preferred the Dramatic, of sitting in the princely
apartments, for such they are, of poor condemned Montagu House, which I
predict will not speedily be followed by a handsomer, and culling at
will the flower of some thousand Dramas. It is like having the range of
a Nobleman’s Library, with the Librarian to your friend. Nothing can
exceed the courteousness and attentions of the Gentleman who has the
chief direction of the Reading Rooms here; and you have scarce to ask
for a volume, before it is laid before you. If the occasional Extracts,
which I have been tempted to bring away, may find an appropriate place
in your _Table Book_, some of them are weekly at your service. By those
who remember the “Specimens,” these must be considered as mere
after-gleanings, supplementary to that work, only comprising a longer
period. You must be content with sometimes a scene, sometimes a song; a
speech, or passage, or a poetical image, as they happen to strike me. I
read without order of time; I am a poor hand at dates; and for any
biography of the Dramatists, I must refer to writers who are more
skilful in such matters. My business is with their poetry only.
Your well-wisher,