Reading Early Modern Drama

There are roughly 836 plays in Greg's Bibliography of the English Printed Drama to the Restoration. Of plays 1-100, I've read 4 (ack, I hang my head in shame) Of plays 101-200, I've read 31 (better, but still embarrassing; and if we counted only those I remember well...) Of plays 201-300, I've read 26 (ugh, this is not going well) Of plays 301-400, I've read 23 (sigh) Of plays 401-500, I've read 50 (better...who knew?) Of plays 501-600, I've read 6 (shocking) Of plays 601-700, I've read 1 (I know...and why haven't I read The Prince of Prigs' Revels) Of plays 701-800, I've read 3 (at this point, no longer a surprise) Of plays 800-836, I've read zero! So, on the bright side, it appears I've read about 144 plays first printed between 1512 and 1689, but, sadly, that represents about 17% of all the plays printed during that period. Now, I may have missed one or two here and there, and there surely aren't 144 plays about which scholars of early modern drama routinely write or journals are clamoring to print essays, but the fact remains that this total strikes me as shockingly paltry. This brings me to what I hope will be a recurring feature here on Blogging the Renaissance: short summaries of plays we like but are rarely read. And by short, I mean short, as in no longer than 1,000 words. And by summaries, I mean mini-essays that explain why we like these plays and why others might like to read them. But others can play too! In fact, send us your mini-essays about obscure (and not so obscure) plays, and, providing they're not libellous, we'll print them. My goal for this project is a handy resource that I and others can use when it suddenly seems as if I/we need to read, say, A Maidenhead Well Lost or The Costly Whore or Every Woman in Her Humour or Longer Thou Livest the More Fool Thou Art (how have I not read these plays)? Sort of a Karl J. Holzknecht for the twenty-first century. Now's the time that I should initiate this process with an inaurgural summary, but--surprise, surprise--I'm too lazy to muster the energy to do so. But is this an idea that others would be interested in (or, for the pedants in the house, "in which others would be interested")? Or have I now placed myself in the category of Arch-Nerd of the Renaissance Blogosphere?