The Unities of Action, Time, and Place, Which if observ'd give Plays fo great a Grace, Are, tho but little practis'd, too well known, To be taught here, where we pretend alone From nicer Faults to purge the prefent Age,isiq Lefs obvious Errors of the English Stage. owl bas om. First then Soliloquies had need be few, mobi Wade I's Extremely fhort, and fpoke in Paffion too. Our Lovers talking to themselves, for want Of others, make the Pit their Confident. Nor is the matter mended yet, if thused They truft a Friend, only to tell it us Th' Occafion fhould as naturally fall, As when * Bellario confeffes all. Figures of Speech, which Poets think fo fine, Art's needlefs Varnish to make Nature fhine, Are all but Paint upon a beauteous Face, And in Defcriptions only can have place. But to make Rage declaim, and Grief discourse, From Lovers in Defpair fine things to force, teds Bajos Muft needs fucceed :" for who can chufe but pityrylo ist 02 A dying Hero miferably witty?

But O! the Dialogue, where Jeft and Mock

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Are held up like a Reft at fhuttle-cock! He aims I suoĉ † Or elfe like Bells eternally they chime,calon yani za dɔut sud They figh in Simile, and die in Rhime.Trı adı ashileg What Things are thefe, who would be Poets thought vor, dianthi By Nature not infpir'd, nor Learning taught?

Some Wit they have, and therefore may deferved 921) 2ilf * A better Courfe, than this by which they ftarved him bat But to write Plays! Why 'tis a bold Pretence 3.5 mucro di engoliiti To Judgment, Breeding, Wit, and Eloquence.

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Nay more, for they must look within, to find de inclina v sexi
Thefe fecret Turns of Nature in the Mind. 09:1 iw as palabrist
Without this Part, in vain would be the Whole, **
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And but a Body all, without a Soul.

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All this together yet is but a Party coda to Mial 9dT
Of* Dialogue, that great and powerful Art
Now almoft loft, which the old Grecians knew,
From which the Romans fainter Copies drew,
Scarce comprehended fince, but by a few:
Plato and Lucian are the best Remains
Of all the Wonders which this Art contains:
Yet to our felves we must fome juftice do,
Shakespear, and Fletcher are our Wonders now.
Confider them, and read them o'er and o'er,
Go fee them play'd, then read them as before
For tho in many things they often fail,
Over our Paflions ftill they fo prevail,
That our own Grief by theirs is rock'd afleep,
The Dull are forc'd to feel, the Wife to weep.
Their Beauties imitate, avoid their Faults.
† First on a Plot employ thy careful Thoughts;
Turn it with Time a thoufand feveral ways,
This oft alone has given Succefs to Plays.
Reject that vulgar Error, which appears.
So fair, of making perfect Characters:
There's no fuch thing in Nature, and you'll draw
A faultless Monster, which the World ne'er faw.

to feel, the Wife to weep.220 25ıugli

Some Faults must be, that his Misfortunes drew,
But fuch as may deferve Compaffion too.
Befides the main Defign compos'd with Art,
Each moving Scene must be a Plot apart.

* His Grace here refers to Comedy, as the Inftances of Plato and Izician fhow; for the Art of Tragick Dialogue is to exprefs the Sentiments naturally in proper Words: elfe his Grace had mistaken; for certainly in the Tragick Dialogue, Sophocles and Euripides, nay, even fchylus, muft have been preferr'd. Nay, it will not hold of Tragedy; for Fletcher's Dialogue is intolerable in that, and could not be otherwife, becaufe he feldom draws either his Manners or Sentiments from Nature.

Exactly conformable to Ariftotle.

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Involuntary Faults, that is, the Effects of violent Paffions, not fuch as are voluntary and fcandalous; as will appear in our Rules..S 10 axt tapek

His Grace means not, that the Scenes fhould not be a Part of the Plot; but that the Poet fhould, befides the main Defign, confider well the working up of every particular Scene which is just.

Contrive

Contrive each little Turn, mark every Place,
As Painters firft chalk out the future Face.
Yet be not fondly your own Slave for this,
But change hereafter what appears amifs.

Think not fo much where fhining Thoughts to place,
As what a Man fhould fay in fuch a cafe.
Neither in Comedy will this fuffice,

The Player too must be before your Eyes:
And tho 'tis Drudgery to ftoop fo low,
To him you muft your utmost Meaning fhow.
Expofe no fingle Fop, but lay the Load
More equally, and fpread the Folly broad.
The other way is vulgar; oft we fee
A Fool derided by as bad as he. ́.
Hawks fly at nobler Game; in this low way
A very Owl may prove a Bird of Prey.
Ill Poets fo will one poor Fop devour:
But to collect, like Bees, from every Flower,
Ingredients to compofe that precious Juice,
Which ferves the World for Pleafure, and for Ufe;
In fpite of Faction this would Favour get:
But Falstaff feems inimitable yet, c.

In what I have to say of the Rules, I fhall confine my self to them, without going into the Controverfy, yet I fhall fometinies add the Reafon and Foundation, that being the Extremity my Bounds will admit.

To begin therefore with the Definition of Tragedy (for the Rules of that I fhall firft infift on, much of Comedy depending on them) it is this Tragedy is the Imitation of one grave and entire Action of a juft Length, and which, without the Affiftance of Narration, by the means of Terror and Compaffion, perfectly refines in us all forts of Paffions, and whatever is like • them.'

This is explain'd by a Piece of Hiftory-Painting (which is very near a-kin to Tragedy) for the Painter takes one grave and en

tire Action, and mingles nothing elfe with it. For example, Raphael painted the Battel of Conftantine, but he brought not into that one Action of Conftantine, all that he had done in his Life; for that had been monstrous, and contrary to Nature and Art. Thus a Tragedy is the Imitation of fome one grave Action, but not all the Actions of a Man's Life.

From hence it is plain, that there is no place in Tragedy for any thing but grave and ferious Actions. Comedy imitates the witty, and the pleafant, and the ridiculous Actions of Mankind. Next, this Action must be entire; that is, it must have a Begin ning, Middle, and End, and be of a juft Length: not fo long as that of the Epopee, nor fo fhort as a fingle Fable. The excluding Narration, and the confining its Aim to Terror, and Compaffion, distinguishes it from the Epick Poem, which may be perfect without them, and employs Admiration.

By the refining the Paffions, I mean not their Extirpation, which is impoffible; but the reducing them to just Bounds and Moderation, which renders them as useful as they are necessary : for by reprefenting to us the Miseries of those who have yielded too much to them, it teaches us to have a ftricter guard over them; and by beholding the great Misfortunes of others, it leffens thofe that we either do, or may feel our felves.

This Imitation mention'd in the Definition being made by the Actors, or Perfons representing, the Scenes are to be regarded by the Poet: For the Decoration is not only for Pomp and Show, as it is generally defign'd, but to exprefs the Nature of the things reprefented, and the Place where; fince there is no Action that does not fuppofe a Place, and Actors drefs'd in one Habit or other proper to that Place.

As Tragedy is the Imitation of an Action, not Inclinations or Habits; fo there is no Action, that does not proceed from the Manners and the Sentiments: therefore the Manners and Sentiments are effential Parts of Tragedy. For nothing but the Manners and Sentiments can distinguish and characterize an Action: the Manners form, and the Sentiments explain it, expofing its

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Difficulty of fhowing in what they tranfgrefs'd the Rules, which he founds on Reason, and Nature: Which the Athenians rightly look'd on, as a piece of Justice, not Ill-nature. For if, as he allow'd them their Excellencies, he had not pointed out their Defects; he had left room for a Bigotry to a Name, to have made their Vices pafs for Virtues, to the prejudice of the juft Improvement of fo noble an Art. Thus I fhall all along recommend the Beauties of Shakespear; but muft beg leave to lay down the Rules of the Drama, left we fall into an erroneous Imitation of his Faults. The Anfwer of Dionyfius to Pompey the Great, will be juft, to all who fhall be of his mind, Pompey complain'd, that he had found fault with Plato, to which he replies in this manner, "Your Veneration for Plato is juft, but your Ac "cufation of me unjust. When a Man writes to fhow what is good or bad in a Subject, he ought, with the utmost Exactness, "to point out its Virtues, and Vices, because that is a certain way to come at the Truth, which is the most valuable of all things. "Had I wrote against Plato, with a Design to decry his Works, "I ought to have been accounted as envious as Zoilus; but, on "the contrary, my Design was to praise him: Yet if in doing "this, I have difcover'd and improv'd any of his Errors or De"fects, I have done nothing that merits a Complaint, &c.'

This, I hope, is fufficient to clear juft Criticism from the Imputation of Ill-nature: And I am of opinion, that fince Poetry has always been efteem'd, in all civiliz'd and polite Countries, a noble Art; there is a Neceffity to free it from that Barbarifm it has hitherto lain under in this Nation, especially in its most valuable and useful Part, the Drama; to lay down those Rules which may form our Judgment, and bring it to a Perfection, that it has not yet known among us.

There is indeed a very formidable Party among us, who are fuch Libertines in all manner of Poetry, efpecially in the Drama, that they think all regular Principles of Art an Impofition not to be born; yet, while they refuse in Poetry just Rules, as a Teft of their Performance, they will allow no Man a Mafter in any other, that follows not the Rules of his Art, be it

Painting,