Shakespeare's theatres became bare ruined choirs in 1642, because of the English Civil War; and when the theatres reopened, in 1660, after an eighteenyear absence, Shakespeare's plays began a long reassimilation into the cultural consciousness of England. Juliet, who died a boy in Shakespeare's day, awoke and found herself transsexualized into a woman—for now actresses were permitted on stage, on a stage itself much changed, for the bare platform of the old theatre had been replaced by a stage with a proscenium arch and elaborate backdrops. And Shakespeare's words also started to mutate in their Restoration afterlife, as they were reconfigured into a locus of multimedia spectacles. Shakespeare, along with Beaumont and Fletcher, slowly shifted, at times becoming a sort of opera librettist. John Dryden regarded the 1674 version of The Tempest as one of the first English operas; and Nahum Tate, the very fellow who wrote the libretto for the first English opera that is still frequently performed, Purcell's Dido and Aeneas (before 1689), also wrote a new ending for King Lear, in which Cordelia revives in Lear's arms, and all concludes well—an ending that remained popular for decades to come.

In the early 1660s, one James Howard devised a version (now lost) of Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending, but it was unsuccessful—evidently no one wanted such a thing. It is interesting to speculate on this version: perhaps Romeo lifts the poison to his lips, then notices Juliet faintly stirring, throws away the vial before drinking it, hugs her madly, and persuades old Capulet that the murderer of Tybalt and Paris would make a sober, reliable husband for his daughter. King Lear is a tragedy, whether or not a deus ex machina can impose a happy ending; but Romeo and Juliet becomes a pointless thing, a romantic comedy crammed with corpses, if the lovers are allowed to unite in the end. So we must posit further rewriting: the text must somehow show that Tybalt and Paris aren't really dead, either, but only badly wounded, capable of seeing the error of their ways and blessing the marriage of Romeo and Juliet—Ah, Romeo, [coughs] I see it clear, thou art a better man than I.