Was able to make the two next companies
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ight witty ; though but downrightybo^, mere wise.** Beaumont's Letter to Jonsov, vol. x. Hitherto the reader has received only the portraits of our authors with-out any proof of the similitude and justice of the draught; nor can we hopethat will appear just from a mere cursory view of the originals. Manypeople reaa PJays chiefly for the sake of the plot, hurrying still on for thatdiscovery. Tlie happy contrivance of surprising but natural incidents iscertainly a very great beauty in the drama, and little writers have oftenmade their advantages of it; they could contrive incidents to embarrassand perplex the plot, and by that alone have succeeded and*pleased, with-out perhaps a single life of nervous poetry, a single sentiment worthy ofmemory, without a passion worked up with natural vigour, or a characterof any distinguished marks. The best poets have rarely made this dramaticmechanism their point. Neither Sophocles, Euripides, Terence, Shake-speare, Beaumont, Fletcher, or Jonson, are at all remarkable for forminga labyrinth of incidents and entangling their readers in a, pleasing perplexity :our late dramatic poets learnt this from the French, and they from romance-writers and novelists. We could almost wish the readers of Beaumontand Fletcher to drop the expectation of the event of each story, to attendwith more care to the beauty and energy of the sejitiments, aictiofiy pas-^iions, and characters. Every good author pleases more, the more he isexamined; (hence perhaps that partiality of editors to their own authors;by a more intimate acquaintance, they discover more of their beautiesthan they do of others) especially when the stile and manner are quite o/d-fashioned, and the beauties hid under the uncouthness of the dress. The taste MR. SEWARD'S PREFACE. kxr toite snd fashion of poetry varies in every aee, and though onr old dramaticwriters are as preferable to the modern as Vandyke and Kubens to our mo-dem painters, yet most eves must be accustomed to their manner beforethey can discern their excellencies. Thus the very best plays of Shakespearewere forced to be dressed fashiotiably by the poetic taylors of the late agesbefore they could be admitted upon the stage, and a very few years sincehis comedies in general were under the highest contempt. Few, very fewdurst speak of them with any sort of regard, till the many excellent cn-ticisms upon that author made people study him, and some excellent actorsrevived these comedies, which completely opened men's eyes; and it is nowbecome as fashionable to admire as it had been to decry them. Shakespeare therefore even, in his second-best manner being now gene*rally admired, we shall endeavour to prove that his second-rate and ourauthor's Jirst-rate beauties are so near upon a par that they are scarce dis-tinguishable. A preface allows not room for sufficient proofs of this, butwe will produce at least some parallels of poetic diction and sentiments^and refer to some of the characters and passions. The instances will be divided jnto three classes: the first of passageswhere our authors fall short in comparison of Shakespeare; the second ofsuch as are not easily discerned from him; the third of those where Beau-mont and Fletcher have the advantage. In The Maid's Tragedy there is a similar passage to one of Shake-speare, -the comparison ot which alone will be no bad scale to judge oftheir different excellencies. Melantius the general thus speaks or hisfriend Antiintor. * ''His worth is great; valiant he is and teovperate^And one that never thinks his life his ownIf his friend need it : when he was a boyAs oft as I returned (as, without boastI brought home conquest) he would gaze upon me.And view me round, to find in what one limbThe virtue lay to do those things he heard ;Then would he wish to see my sword, and feelThe quickness of the edse, and in his handWeign it. — ^He oft would make me smile at this jHis youth did promise much, and his ripe yearsWill see it all performed." Vol. i. acti. A youth gazing on every limb of the victorious chief, then begginghis sword, feeling its edge, and poising it in his arm, are attitudes noblyexpressive of the inward ardor and ecstasy of soul: but what is most^ observable is, ■ ** And in his hand Weigh it He oft, ft^c." By this beautiful pause or break, the action and picture continue in view,and the poet, like Homer, is eloquent in silence. It is a species of beautythat shews an intimacy with that father of poetry ^ in whom it occurs ex-tremely often ^ Milton has an exceeding fine one in the description ofhis Lazar-House. ■ " Despair "Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch.
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