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alloo How far it may be permitted to caress the maids in order to succeed with the mistress.
The What constructions a man may put upon a smile, and in what cases a frown goes for nothing.
On what occasions a sheepish look may do ser. vice, &c.
As a farther proof of his skill, he has also fent me several maxims in love, which he assures me are
M the result of a long and profound reflexion, some of which I think myself obliged to communicate to the publick, not remembering to have seen them before in any author.
• There are more calamities in the world, arising « from love than from hatred.
• Love is the daughter of Idleness, but the mother • of Disquietude.
. Men of grave natures (says Sir Francis Bacon)
are the most constant; for the same reason men • should be more constant than women.
• The gay part of mankind is most ainorous, the o serious inost loving.
A coquette often loses her reputation, while the preserves her virtue.
• A prude often preserves her reputation when « she has lost her virtue,
Love refines a man's behaviour, but makes & woman's ridiculous.
· Love is generally accompanied with good-will . in the young, interest in the middle-aged, and a
paffion too grofs to name in the old.
A woman, who from being a flattern becomes over-neat, or from being over-neat becomes a · flattern is most certainly in love.'
I shall make use of this gentleman's skill, as I see occafion; and since I am got upon the subject of love, shall conclude this paper, with a copy of ver: ses which were lately sent me by an unknown hand,
as I look upon them to be above the ordinary run of fonnéteers.
The author tells me they were written in one of his despairing fits; and, Í find, entertains some hope, that his mistress may pity such a paflion as he has described, before she knows that the is herself Corinna. Conceal, fond man, conceal the mighty smart,
Nor tell Corinna be has fir'd thy heart. In vain would It ihou complain, in vain pretend To ask a pity which she must not lend. She's too much thy superior to comply, And too too fair to let thy pasion die. Languish in fecret, and with dumb. surprise Drink the resistless glances of her eyes. At awful distance entertain thy grief, Be still in pain, but never ask relief. Ne'er tempt her scorn of thy consuming state; Be any way undone, but fly her hate. Thou must submit to see thy charmer bless Some happier youth that shall admire her lefs; Who in that lovely form, that heav'nly mind, Shall miss ten thousand beauties thou could'At find. Who with low fancy Mall approach her charms, While half enjoy'd she finks into his arms. She knows not, must not know, thy nobler fire, Whom fe, and whom the mufes do inspire ; Her image only sball thy breast employ, And
fill thy captiv'd soul with shades of joy ; Direct thy dreams by night, thy thoughts by day; And never, never, from thy bofom stray.
NO 592. FRIDAY, SEPTEMBR 10.
Studium fine divite vena.
Hor. Ars Poet. ver. 409. Art without a vein.
ROSCOMMON. I Look upon the playhoufe as a world within it
"felf. They have lately furnished the middle region of it with a new set of nxeteors, in order to give the fublime to many modern tragedies. I was there last winter at the first rehearsal of the new thunder, which is much more deep and fonorous than any bitherto made use of. They have a Salmoneus behind the scenes who plays it off with great
fuccess. Their lightnings are made to flash more briskly than heretofore; their clouds are also better furbelowed, and more voluminous; not to mention a violent storm locked up in a great chest, that is defigned for the Tempeft. They are also provided with above a dozen thowers of snow, which, as I am informed, are the plays of many unfuccesful poets artificially cut and Ihredded for that ufe. mier's Edgar is to fall in snow at the next acting of King Lear, in order to heighten, or rather to alleviate, the distress of that unfortunate Prince ; and to serve by way of decoration to a piece which that great critic has written against.
I do not indeed wonder that the actors should be such profefred enemies to those among our nation who are commonly known by the name of Critics, fince it is a rule among these gentlemen to fall upon a play, not because it is ill written, but because it takes. Several of them lay it down as a maxiin, that whatever Dramatic performance has a long run, must of neceffity be good for nothing; as though the first precept in poetry irere net to please.
Whether this rule holds good or not, I fhall leave to the determination of those who are better judges than myself; if it does, I am sure it tends very much to the honour of those gentlemen who have established it; few of their pieces having been difgraced by a run of three days, and most of them being so exquisitely written, that the town would never give them more than one night's hearing.
I have a great esteem for a true critic, such as Aristotle and Longinus among the Greeks, Horace and Quintilian among the Romans, Boileau and Dacier among the French. But it is our misfortune, that some who set up for profeffed critics among us are so. stupid, that they do not know how to put ten words together with elegance or common propriety, and withal fo illiterate that they have no taste of the learned languages, and therefore criticise upon old authors only at second hand. They judge of them by what others have written, and not by any notions they have of the authors themselves. The words unity, action, sentiment, and diction, pronounced with an air of authority, give them a figure among unlearned readers, who are apt to believe they are very deep because they are unintelligible. The ancient critics are full of the phrases of their contemporaries; they discover beauties which efcaped the observation of the vulgar, and very often find out reasons for palliating and excuting such little flips and oversights as were committed in the writings of eminent authors. On the contrary, most of the smarterers in criticism who appear among us, make it their buliness to vilify and depreciate every new production that gains applause, to descry imaginary blemithes, and to prove by far-fetched arguments, that what pass for beauties in any celebrated piece are faults and er
In short, the writings of these critics compared with those of the ancients, are like the works Vol. VIII.
of the fophifts compared with those of the old philosophers.
Envy and cavil are the natural fruits of laziness and ignorance; which was probably the reason, that in the heathen mythology Momus is said to be the son of Nox and Somnus, of darkness and sleep. Idle men, who have not been at the pains to accomplish or distinguish themselves, are very apt to detract from others; as ignorant men are very subject to decry those beauties in a celebrated work which they have not eyes to discover. Many of our fons of Momus, who dignify themselves by the name of critics, are the genuine descendents of thefe two illustrious ancestors. They are often led-into those numerous absurdities, in which they daily instruct the people, by not considering that, First, There is sometimes a greater judgment shewn, in deviating from the rules of art, than in adhering to them; and, 2dly, That there is more beauty in the works of a great genius who is ignorant of all the rules of art, than in the works of a little genius, who not only knows, but fcrupulously observes them. First, We
often take notice of men who are perfectly acquainted with all the rules of good writing, and notwithstanding chuse to depart from them on extraordinary occafions. I could give inítances out of all the tragic writers of antiquity who have shewn their judgment in this particular; and purposely receded from an established rule of the drama, when it has made way for a much higher beauty than the observation of such a rule would have been. Those who have surveyed the noblest pieces of architecture and statuary both ancient and inodern, know very well that there are frequent deviations from art in the works of the greatest masters, which have produced a much nobler effect than a more accurate and exact
way of proceeding could have done. This often arises from what