Of all the merits that may be claimed for the plays of Shakespeare, surely one of the greatest, though least extolled, is indestructibility. From drolls and burlettas to ballets and grand opera, from the archaeological extravaganzas of Charles Kean and the Duke of Saxe-Meiningen to Copeau's chaste representations on the tréteau nu, from an unceremonious Hamlet fencing in his undershirt (“rehearsal clothes,” or so we were told) to a Harry the Fifth barely visible through clouds of spent gunpowder—no matter how badly mutilated, “improved,” ludicrously performed, or grotesquely mounted, the plays of Shakespeare persistently demonstrate their ability to survive, despite the best efforts of their legion interpreters. And among these interpreters must be included the riders and actors of the circus, whose productions were perhaps no more bizarre than those of their brethren on the legitimate stage.