This latest instalment in the edition of Philippe Quinault’s complete spoken plays covers five tragicomedies that were premiered between 1657 and 1662. They mark a turning point in his career in multiple respects: he shifts from romanesque subjects to historical material, even if the plots are largely fictional; he aims to create greater psychological depth for his main characters; he gives the political dimension more prominence. Quinault’s practice reflects a change in the conception of tragicomedy as a genre occurring at the midpoint of the century: audiences lost interest in Spanish sources, preferring plots with a more serious overall tone and a historical foundation, thus increasingly moving the genre closer to tragedy. However, that shift was gradual, and Quinault’s later tragicomedies still rely heavily on such conventional devices as misunderstandings, coincidences, disguises, forged or misconstrued letters, and babies switched in infancy. Quinault presents his characters as serious figures, though the situations in which they find or place themselves are sometimes comic. They are usually not marionettes but rather complex people with individual personalities, and they sometimes experience internal conflicts. Quinault consistently endows his sympathetic characters with ‘la belle galanterie’ (a term he uses in one of his dedications), reflecting the influence of the salons, which he was now frequently attending. That milieu is also linked to some of Quinault’s favourite stylistic devices, such as irony, paradox, and maxims and reflections (mostly about love). While Quinault’s detractors rightly note the predominance of tendresse, love assumes multiple guises, and the plays can showcase darker emotions as well. Surprise comes in many forms, including scenes where characters say the exact opposite of how they feel and what we expect from them. The increased pressure of the bienséances also influences the treatment of potentially tragic themes such as incest (skilfully, if unhistorically, avoided at the last minute in Le Mariage de Cambise and Stratonice). Two plays are closer in tone to tragedy (Amalasonte and Agrippa, where there is greater use of suspense and more melodramatic character opposition), while the other three plays have a more light-hearted feel. William Brooks and Buford Norman are meticulous in their editing. The texts are presented with great care, with only a small number of obvious errors, while the critical apparatus is of good quality. The analyses of the individual plays are solid, noting how each work fits both into the playwright’s overall corpus and the Parisian theatrical context. As leading experts on Quinault’s biography, they provide interesting and often new information about the circumstances behind the plays’ composition. They also shed new light on such matters as the plays’ initial reception and original casting, while questioning the traditional view that Nicolas Boileau was targeting Stratonice in his Satire III. These plays are enjoyable to read, but their main interest is literary-historical, as indications of popular taste (all five were well received, and some of them were very successful), and as marking a stage in Quinault’s evolution towards the finest works of his mature period: the late tragedies and the opera libretti.