the Battle of Waterloo, so in
1613, the Globe Theatre, in Southwark, was burnt to the ground from
the firing of "chambers" during a representation of "King Henry VIII."
Howes, in his additions to "Stowe's Chronicle," thus describes the
event: "Also upon St. Peter's Day, 1613, the playhouse or theatre
called the Globe, upon the Bankside, near London, by negligent
discharging of a peal of ordnance, close to the south side thereof,
the theatre took fire, and the wind suddenly dispersed the flame round
about, and in a very short space the whole building was quite consumed
and no man hurt; the house being filled with people to behold the
play, namely, of 'Henry VIII.;' and the next spring it was new builded
in a far fairer manner than before."

The paucity of Shakespeare's stage armies has sometimes found its
reflex in the limited means of country theatres of more modern date.
The ambition of strolling managers is apt to be far in advance of
their appliances; they are rarely stayed by the difficulties of
representation, or troubled with doubts as to the adequacy of their
troupe, in the words of a famous commander, to "go anywhere and do
anything." We have heard of a provincial Rolla who at the last moment
discovered that the army, wherewith he proposed to repulse the forces
of Pizarro, consisted of one supernumerary only. The Peruvian
chieftain proved himself equal to the situation, however, and adapted
his speech to the case. Addressing his one soldier, he declaimed in
his most dignified manner: "My brave associate, partner of my toil, my
feelings, and my fame, can Rolla's words add vigour to the virtuous
energies which inspire your heart?" and so on. Thus altered, the
speech was found to be sufficiently effective.

In his "Essay of Dramatic Poesy," Dryden complains of the "tumults to
which we are subject in England by representing duels, battles, and
the like, which renders our stage too like the theatres where they
fight prizes. For what is more ridiculous than to represent an army
with a drum and four men behind it, all which the hero of the other
side is to drive before him? or to see a duel fought and one slain
with two or three thrusts of the foils, which we know are so blunted
that we might give a man an hour to kill another in good earnest with
them?"

Two things were especially prized by the audiences of the past: a
speech and a combat. "For God's sake, George, give me a speech and let
me go home!" cried from