the barbarity or the corruption of the times excufe.

Having confidered the characters of this piece, I cannot pass over the conduct of it without taking notice of the peculiar feli¬ city, with which the fable unfolds itself from the very beginning,

The first scenes give the outlines of the characters, and the argument of the drama, Where is there an inftance of any opening of a play equal to this? And I think I did not rafhly affert, that it is one of the most difficult parts of the dramatic art; for that furely may be allowed so, in which the greatest masters have very feldom fucceeded. Euripides is not very happy in this refpect. Iphigenia in Tauris begins by telling to herself, in a pretty long foliloquy, who he is, and all that happened to her at Aulis. As Aristotle gives this play the highest praise, we may be affured it did not in any respect offend the Greek taste : and Boileau not injudiciously prefers this

1

fimple expofition, deftitute as it is of any grace, to the perplexed and tedious declamation of the modern stage.

Que dés les premiers vers l'action préparée,

Sans peine, du fujet applaniffe l'entrée,

Je me ris d'un acteur, qui lent à s'exprimer,
De ce qu'il veut, d'abord ne fait pas m'informer;
Et qui, debrouillant mal une pénible intrigue,
D'un divertiffement me fait une fatigue,
J'aimerois mieux encor qu'il déclinât fon nom,
Et dit, Je fuis Orefte, ou bien Agamemnon:
Que d'aller par un tas de confufes merveilles,
Sans rien dire à l'efprit, étourdir les oreilles.

That the fimplicity of Euripides is preferable to the perplexity or bombaft of Corneille's manner in developing the ftory of feveral of his tragedies, no person of just taste I believe will difpute. The first scene of the Cinna has been ridiculed by Boileau. That of Sertorius is not very happy. His famous play of Rodogune is opened by two unknown perfons, one of whom begins, Enfin ce jour pompeux, cet heureux jour, nous luit;

and

and, after un tas de confufes merveilles in the moft wretched verfe, extended to the length of feventy lines, when the reader very impatiently expects to be informed of the whole of the narration, ftops fhort with thefe words,

Je vous acheverai le reste une autre fois.

Two brothers united by the most tender friendship, living in the fame palace, having been long in love with the fame princess, have never yet intimated their paffion to each other, not from motives of jealousy or diftruft, but that their confidents may tell it the fpectator, and make him fome amends for the abrupt conclufion of the former conversation. However, still the poor spec-. tator is much in the dark, till the queen, who is a perfect Machiavel, relates, merely from the love of talking, all the murders she has committed, and those fhe still intends to commit, to her waiting woman, for whofe parts the expreffes at the fame time. she a fovereign contempt.

Here

Here I cannot help taking notice, that as the poet's want of art made it neceffary to fet the queen to prate of her former crimes, to let us into the fable; his ignorance of human nature betrayed him in a fucceeding scene, into the enormous abfurdity of making both Rodogune and the queen without hesitation, the one advise the lover' to murder his mistress, the other the fon to murder his mother. Here again an instance offers itself of our Shakespear's fuperior knowledge of the heart of man. King John wishes to inftigate Hubert to kill Prince Arthur, but obferve with what difficulty he expreffes his horrid purpose.

King JOHN.

Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much; within this wall of flesh
There is a foul counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love;
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bofom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand, I had a thing to say-
But I will fit it with fome better time.

By

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By heaven, Hubert, I'm almost afham'd
To fay what good refpect I have of thee.
HUBERT.

I am much bounden to your majefty.

King JOHN.

Good friend, thou haft no cause to say so yet,-
But thou fhalt have-and creep time ne'er fo flow,
Yet it fhall come for me to do thee good.
I had a thing to fay-but, let it go:

The fun is in the heav'n, and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,
Is all too wanton, and too full of gaudes,
To give me audience. If the midnight bell
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this fame were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou poffeffed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that furly spirit melancholy

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy thick,
Which else runs trickling up and down the veins,

Making that idiot laughter keep men's eyes,
And ftrain their cheeks to idle merriment;

(A paffion hateful to my purposes)

Or if thou couldeft fee me without eyes,

Hear me without thine ears, and make reply

Without