747 
POETRY. 
feeble angels and engaging devils, is an unpardonable 
error. 
Of Tragedy. —The obje£l of Tragedy being to difplay 
the paflions of mankind, it follows that fome great and 
overwhelming paffion fliould in it be difplayed : for, though 
all men are not acquainted with thofe delicate (hades of 
feeling with which poetry in general plays, every one is 
fenfible to the exercife of fury and the ftronger emotions. 
No drama, therefore, pleafes the world “ common and 
popular,” (and they claim the firft confideration,) „if 
grounded on common, feeble, or obfcurely-defined, emo¬ 
tions. Thefe common paflions being poffeffed in fome 
degree of force by every body, their language is well 
underftood ; confequently the expreflion is of eafy ac- 
compli(hment. But the dramatift is (hut from a great 
advantage belonging to the ordinary poet. The latter 
can defcribe characters beyond human ken with eafe, 
becaufe he fpeaks himfelf, and may tell his (lory in any 
beautiful and infpired ftyle he likes ; but the former, as he 
(peaks not himfelf but by his characters, nnift inveft them 
entirely with the language of truth. He mult make 
them fpeak juft as they might have fpoken, without any 
ornament of his own, without any foftening of natural 
harftinefs. The beauty and fublimity which belong to 
poetry, muft here give way to truth. We defcribe in a 
play much of the corporeal characters of man ; and there¬ 
fore the imperfections of the flefh muft be apparent; the 
truth is facrificed. We are certainly borne out by com¬ 
mon opinion in afl'erting, that, before all other excellen¬ 
cies, it is neceffary that the language of dramatic charac¬ 
ters (hould be the prototype of nature itfelf, nothing flat¬ 
tered or abated. It does not follow from this, that we 
are to admit the low, vulgar, or affefled, to be too appa¬ 
rent; becaufe, though every character muft fpeak natu¬ 
rally, we are not obliged to feleCt the coarfeft. More¬ 
over the imagination allows us to feek the beft of a 
genus, to omit the lowed and moll vulgar fentiments, 
and exhibit men in their better moments. If fuch a 
man as Falftaff ever lived, he muft have often indulged 
in grofs obfcenity of language; and his humour, being 
of fo boifterous a nature, muft often have been fooliih 
and difgufting. But our poet has made him the fondeft 
idol of the humourilt’s heart, for he has kept only enough 
of fuch faults in the character to (how its fidelity, and he 
has difplayed in every word, wit, good-humour, and 
philofophy. The practice of making tragical characters 
fpeak uniformly in one high and lofty ffpecies of verfe, 
with fentiments always fublime, has ruined many trage¬ 
dies in the Englifli language, fince the time of Shakefpeare, 
and it has been one of the great caufes of the inferiority 
of the French ftage. Always mounted on (lilts, the 
drama of poliftied times has been never either graceful 
or majeftic. Whoever draws characters truly, muft draw 
them grandly : but they need not feek always for fine fenti- 
ments or extraordinary facrifices of feeling. There is 
always fomething worthy of applaufe in the word of men ; 
fome good quality which the obferver cannot help being 
imprefied with. There are few of the wicked characters 
in our plays which do not exhibit the advantages of firm- 
nefs, and the beauty of manlinefs. Wolfey, the proud 
imperious prieft, the artful courtier, the opprefl'or of the 
people, the murderer ofBuckingham, is dill no hypocrite ; 
he has at the bottom of his heart a belief in and a venera¬ 
tion for God, a true love for his king, and a grateful friend- 
(hip for his protege Cromwell. The fenfual and arbitrary 
Henry, who follows folely the rule of his paflions, is yet 
a cloie reafoner, and has an innate love of juftice. Thofe 
who have not fome redeeming qualities are few indeed; 
they are mere contrails to the good ; Iago is perhaps the 
only inftance. 
WithrefpeCl to the language of thefe charaClers, though 
we contend for their being natural, we have a right to 
make it as good as the charaClers could poflibly have 
fpoken; therefore, when men fpeak of the ftronger paflions 
and (eelings, it muft be metaphorical, and confequently 
compreffed; and thofe irregular cadences and allocations 
which fall into blank verfe fo eafily, which verfe muft be 
of a rough and irregular kind, the lines often broken, and 
the rhythm little attended to. But, when we (peak of 
love, of beauty, or of pity, our words run fweetly in the 
mod regular meafures : rhyme may even arife; now 
jocund and bounding, the next ferious and plaintive; 
now quaint and hyperbolical, but ever mufical. When 
defpondency preffes, we fpeak plain profe. We (hall 
give a few examples of each ftyle. 
ill. Of the paflionate, full of metaphor, concife and 
harfh. 
Othello. Had it pleafed Heaven 
To try me with affliction ; had he rain’d 
All kinds of fores and (hames on my bare head ; 
Steep’d me in poverty to the very lips ; 
Given to captivity me and my utmoll hopes ; 
I (hould have found in fome part of my (cul 
A drop of patience; but (alas) to make ine 
A fixed figure, for the time of fcorn 
To point his (low unmoving finger at, 
Oh ! Oh ! 
Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: 
But there, where I have garner’d up my heart; 
Where either I mud live or bear no life ; 
The fountain from the which my current runs, 
Or elfe dries up ; to be difcarded thence! 
Or keep it as a ciftern for foul toads 
To knot and genderin !—turn thy complexion there ! 
Patience, thou young and rofe-lip’d cherubin ; 
Ay, there, look grim as hell! 
Defdemona. I hope my noble lord efteems me honed. 
Othello. O ay; as fummer fli es are in the fnambles,. 
That quicken even with blowing, O thou weed 
Who art fo lovely fair, and fmell’ll fo fweet 
That the fenfe aches at thee—would thou had’d ne’er 
been born. 
Defdemona. Alas! what ignorant fin have I committed ? 
Othello .What committed! 
Committed !— O thou public commoner ! 
I (hould make very forges of my cheeks 
That would to cinders burn up modefty, 
Did I but fpeak thy deeds.—What committed ! 
Heaven (tops the nofe at it, and the moon winks; 
The bawdy wind, that kiffes all it meets, 
Is hufh’d within the hollow mine of earth. 
And will not hear it. What committed ! — 
What a multitude of images are here conjured up ! nearly 
twenty ltrong and diftinCl fimilies; fome quite hyperbo¬ 
lical and extravagant, and for that very reafon proper in 
fuch a character as Othello. 
Let us now obferve the language of love. How fweet 
blank verfe becomes under fuch influence. We may fee 
likewife here how well rhyme coincides with this paffion, 
and with blank verfe alfo s 
Then I confefs, 
Here on ray knees, before high heaven and you. 
That before you and next unto high heaven, 
I love your fon :— 
My friends were poor and honed; fo’s my love. 
Be not offended ; for it hurts not him, 
That he is lov’d of me : I follow him not 
By any token of prefumptuous fuit: 
Nor would I have him, till I do deferve him; 
Yet never know how that defert fhould be. 
I know I love in vain, drive agair.ft hope ; 
Yet in this captious and intenable fieve 
I ftill pour in the waters of my love, 
And lack not to love ftill :—thus Indian like, 
Religious in mine error, I adore 
The fun that looks upon his worlhipper, 
But knows of him no more. My deareft madam. 
Let not your hate encounter with my love, 
For 
