Oracle; he is no fooner arriv'd, but taken, and as he is going to be facrific'd, the Discovery is made that he is Brother to the Prieftefs, which faves his Life.'

This is the general and univerfal Fable without Names, and which may yet receive any Names the Poet pleases; who, adding the Episodes circumftantiates, and makes it particular; as the adding the Madnefs of Oreftes, and the like, makes it proper to that Story.

When the Poet comes to write and work up his Scenes, Aristotle advises, which Otway's Practice confirms, that he fhou'd put himfelf into the fame Paffion he writes, and imitate the Gestures, and Actions of those whom he makes to fpeak.

The Poet ought to take care in the unravelling the Plot, in which many miscarry: the Plot is all the Play from the Beginning to the Discovery or Unravelling, which is beft towards the laft Scene of the Play; for if the Unravelling be in the fourth Act, the rest must be dull and heavy. But when the Peripetie and Discovery come together, and all at the End of the Play, the Audience go away with Pleafure and Satisfaction.

Having faid fo much of the Fable, Incidents, Manners, &c. I fhall add a word or two on the Sentiments; in which we must follow the Advice of the Duke of Buckingham.

Nay more, for they must look within, to find

• Thofe fecret Turns of Nature in the Mind.'

But then the Poet muft not be content to look into his Mind, to fee what he himfelf fhou'd think on fuch an Occafion, but he muft put himself into the Paffion, Quality, and Temper of the Character he is to draw; that is, he muft affume the Manners he gives his Dramatic Perfon, and then fee what Sentiments or Thoughts fuch an Occafion, Paffion, or the like, will produce. And the Poet must change his Perfon, as a different Perfon, and Character fpeaks: or he will make all speak alike, without any diftinction of Character. Gaffarel gives you an Account of Campanella, which will illuftrate this Place. He fays, "That going

• to

to see him when in the Inquifition, he found him making feS veral sodd Faces, which he took to be the Effect of the Pains he • had endur'd there; but on his asking Gaffarel what fort of ? Man fuch a Cardinal was, and enquiring into his Features, he ❝ found that Campanella was framing himself by the force of Ima5. gination to the Likeness of the Cardinal, to know what Anfwer the thou'd have to a Letter he had sent him.'

Now if the forming our outward Figure cou'd be of fuch Ufe, as to make us think like another, certainly when the Imagination proceeds by its own Strength and Force to liken the Soul as well as the Body, it must have a wonderful Effect: yet this cannot be done but by a great Genius.

I fhall fay no more of the Sentiments here, because they are to be learn'd from the Art of Rhetoric more than that of Poetry. For the Sentiments being all that make up the Difcourfe, they confift int proving, refuting, exciting and expreffing the Paffions, as Pity, Anger, Fear, and all the others; to raife, or debase the Value of any thing. The Reasons of Poets and Orators are the fame when they would make things appear worthy of Pity, or terrible, or great, or probable; tho fome things are render'd fo by Art, and others by their own Nature.

The Diction or Language is that which next comes under our Confideration; which, tho made fo confiderable a Part by our modern Play-wrights, (who indeed have little else to value themfelves upon) was by Ariftotle thought of the least Importance; tho it is confefs'd, when the Elocution is proper and elegant, and varies as it ought, it gives a great and very advantageous Beauty to a Play. The Fable, the Manners, and the Sentiments are without doubt the most confiderable; for, as Ariftotle obferves, a Tragedy may be perfect without the Affiftance of Elocution: for the Subject may be well manag'd, the Manners well mark'd, and the Sentiments may be juft and fine, tho ill exprefs'd. An ill Elocution renders the Difcourfe flat, but that deftroys not the Beauty of the other Parts. Befides, a Tragedy may be written in Profe as well as Verfe; that is, thofe other three Parts may be as well

f 2

exprefs'd

express'd in Profe as Verfe; but Verfe is made ufe of, because more harmonious, and by confequence more agreeable.

But as we err as much in this part of Tragedy, as in the other three, it wou'd be neceffary to give fome Rules of Diftinction on this Head: but that I have not room to do in this place; and Propriety and Elegance of Diction must be learn'd from Grammar and Rhetoric. However, I will not pass this entirely in filence, but fhall lay down two or three Rules which are abfolutely neceflary to give any true Beauty to a Dramatic Diction.

Some have been betray'd by their Ignorance of Art and Nature to imagine, that because the Stile of Milton's Paradife Loft is admirable in the Epic Poem, it will be fo in Tragedy; not confidering that Milton himself has vary'd his Stile mightily in his Sampson Agonistes, from that of his Paradife. And Mr. Dryden's Criticifm is very juft, in his Epistle to the Marquifs of Normandy, (the late Duke of Buckingham) before the Eneis; where quoting from Segrais and Boffu------That the Stile of an Heroic Poem ought to be more lofty than that of the Drama The Critick is in the right, fays he, for the Reafon already urg'd. The Work of Tragedy is on the Paffions in Dialogue: both of them abhor ftrong Metaphors, ‹ in which the Epopee delights; a Poet cannot speak too plainly on the Stage, &c.'

And Boileau, a judicious Critic, as well as Poet, has Words to this effect-- Wou'd you deserve the Applaufe of the Pub•lic? In writing, diverfify your Stile inceffantly too equal, ❝ and too uniform a Manner fhines to no purpose, and inclines us to fleep. Rarely are those Authors read, who are born to plague us, and who appear always whining in the fame ingrateful Tone. Happy the Man, who can fo command his Voice, as to pafs without any Constraint from that which is Grave, to that which is Moving; and from that which is Pleafant, to that which is Severe, and Solemn.' Every Paffion has its proper way of fpeaking, which a Man of Genius will eafily derive from the very Nature of the Paffion he writes. Anger is proud, and utters haughty words, but speaks in words lefs fierce and fiery when it

debates:

debates: Grief is more humble, and fpeaks a Language like it self, dejected, plain, and forrowful.

Projicit Ampullu, & fefquipedalia Verba,

As Horace juftly obferves. From thefe few Obfervations it is evident how far from fine Language fome of our Poets are, who have had Succefs even for that alone, in spight of all the Abfurdities of the Fable, Manners, and Sentiments; tho in reality they were no more excellent in this, than in those.

Thus have we feen that Tragedy is an Imitation of an Action of a juft Extent, i. e. that has a Beginning, Middle, and End, and which fhall produce Pity, and Terrour. But this Action not being to be perform❜d or represented without human Agents in that Action, it neceffarily brings in an Under-Imitation of thofe Men in that Action; that is, of their Manners, as they contribute to that Action: and this makes a Neceffity of imitating the Men that are introduc'd in the Drama.

We must not expect many Inftances of Shakespear's Perfection in the Fable, tho perhaps we may find fome extraordinary Strokes that way likewife; but the Beauties of the Manners we fhall find every where, as I fhall fhew in my Examen of his Plays.

It may perhaps be expected, that I fhould fay fomething of Comedy. But I have infenfibly fwell'd this Difcourfe to a greater Bulk than I at firft defign'd; fo that I fhall only fay in general, that Comedy participates in many things of the Rules of Tragedy: that is, it is an Imitation both of Action and Manners ; but thofe muft both have a great deal of the Ridiculum in them, and indeed Humour is the Characteristic of this Poem, without which aComedy loofes its Name; as we have many of late who fall from the Ridiculum into a mere Dialogue, diftinguish'd only by a pert fort of Chit-Chat, and little Aims at Wit. Ben Johnfon is our beft Pattern, and has given us this Advantage, that tho the English Stage has fcarce yet been acquainted with

the

the Shadow of Tragedy, yet we have excell'd all the Antients in Comedy.

There is no Man has had more of this Vis Comica than our Shakespear in particular Characters; and in the Merry Wives of Windfor, he has given us a Play that wants but little of a perfect Regularity. Comedy in England has met with the Fate of Tragedy in Athens, for that only has yet been cultivated; whereas the polite Athenians took first care of Tragedy, and it was late e'er the Magiftrate took any notice of Comedy, or thought it wor thy their Inspection.

All Arts indeed improve as they find Encouragement; our Statesmen have never yet thought it worth their while to rescue the Drama from the Hands of the Ignorant, and the Benefit of private Persons, under which Load of Obftacles it can never rise to any Perfection; and place fuch Men in the Management of it, as may turn it to the Advantage of the Public. Whether this be any Proof of their good Politics or not, I fhall not here determine; but I am fure, that very politic Nations, that is, the Greeks and the Romans, had far other Sentiments.

This naturally leads me to the Rife of the Sage in Greece, where it was entirely rais'd by Tragedy. For Thefpis first made a moving Stage for that Poem, tho it was not then, as it is now, pure and unmix'd: for the ill Subjects that Thefpis chofe, threw him upon a fort of Tragi-Comedy; which Error Efchylus corrected, by chufing only noble Subjects, and an exalted Stile, that being before too burlesque. So that as far as we may guess, the Plays of Thelpis were not unlike fome of thofe of our Shakespear. For it was fome time before the Stage came to its Magnificence and Purity, even in Greece it felf, at leaft in Comedy: For the People are generally the fame in all Countries, and obftinately retain licentious and obfcene things; and it is the Property of Roughness and Barbarism to give place to Politenefs with a great deal of difficulty. Nay, Sophocles was the firft that purg'd Tragedy it felf entirely, and brought it to its true Majefty and Gravity. For, as Dacier obferves, the Changes that Tragedy and Comedy underwent, were brought about by little and little,

becaufe

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