Lecture XIX &c — Of the Drama in General
We are come, at last, to that Species of Poetry which is chiefly and primarily so call’d, because it agrees best with the Sense of the original Word, poiein, whence Poema is deriv’d. For such is the comprehensive Signification of this Word, that it denotes not only the Invention, but the Contexture of the Fable, the Conduct of the Action, and the Disposal of the Parts: All which concern the two Sorts of Poems that now remain to be discours’d of, viz. the Epic and Dramatic, but more especially the latter. The former, indeed, is, upon the whole, more noble in its Nature; but, in some Circumstances, is inferior to the other; in the Action, particularly, as the Etymology of the Word Drama, from dran, to act, implies. In Epic, indeed, Heroes and Gods are represented speaking: But the Poet there performs only the Part of an Historian, and the Speeches are no more than Narrations. Whereas, in the Dramatic Writings, the Persons themselves are introduced, every Thing is transacted in our Sight, and our Eyes and Ears at once are gratified. Now Horace’s Observation is undoubted just:
351 Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem,
Quam quæ sunt oculis commissa fidelibus.
But what we hear, moves less than what we see.
Roscommon.
Besides, the Action in the Drama is much more simple, and compendious, than in the Epic; it takes up less Time, and therefore requires more Art to conduct it. It excites in the Mind more rapid Motions, and consequently makes the Pleasure and Admiration more intense. For these, and other Reasons, Aristotle, in the last Chapter of his Book of Poetry, does not scruple to give the Preference to Tragedy before Epic. Not that I think he reckons it a more noble Kind in general, (for that would be contrary to Truth and Reason) but only so far as its Sphere extends: And this is a Difference, which, I humbly conceive, is very distinguishable. This Excellence of the Drama, which I here speak of, is the Reason, no doubt, why, tho’ his Book bears the Title of Poetry in general, yet he dwells solely upon that Species of it. I am not ignorant, indeed, that this Work of his, as it is now extant, is imperfect, and part of it lost. But by what we have now remaining, the rest of it appears to have been spent on the same Subject. And Horace, the best Interpreter of Aristotle, in his famous Epistle to the Piso’s, keeps chiefly in this Track. The other Kinds of Poetry he does but lightly touch: But the Laws of the Drama he treats of fully and professedly. After his Example, various Writers upon the Art of Poetry in different Ages and Languages, have chose to dwell chiefly upon the Drama, and have left abundance of elaborate Treaties upon that Subject. I shall make it my Business to collect what others have said, into as short a Compass as I can, and explain more fully what I have now to add of my own.
The principal Species of the Drama are two, Comedy and Tragedy: Some others there are, of less Note; as Pastoral, and Satire, both which we have already spoke of. Tragi-Comedy I don’t reckon one of them, because I think it the greatest Absurdity in Nature, and is not so properly a Species distinct from the other two I first mention’d, as the Abuse and Corruption of them. For what can be more ridiculous, than, in the Compass of three Hours, to distract the Mind with Joy and Grief, in such a Manner, that the two contrary Passions may debilitate, or totally extinguish each other? How ill are such incoherent Parts united? And what is it but a monstrous Production?
352 ——Turpiter atrum
Desinit in piscem mulier formosa superne.
A Handsome Woman with a Fish’s Tail.
Roscom.
How irrational a Transition is it, from beholding the Conflicts of Kings and Heroes with Misfortunes, to descend, on a sudden, to low Scenes of Ribaldry, and to return again from these to so moving a Spectacle! A Poem, indeed, should be adorn’d with Variety, but not with Inconsistencies. The Passions, likewise, and Affections of the Mind, should be bent and bow’d down; but so bent, that they may not grow languid, but recover new Strength. This poetic Kind of Prodigy, I think, is altogether modern, and chiefly of British Extraction; for it was the last Age produc’d Multitudes of them in our own Tongue. I know very well that the learned Vossius353, speaking of the Plays of the Ancients divided into Prætextatæ and Togatæ, observes, that “there was a mix’d Kind, call’d Tabernariæ, where some of the Persons appear’d in the Prætexta, others in the Toga. Thus Festus in Pomponius Lætus: The Togatæ were of two kinds, viz. the Prætextatæ, when the Actors represented Persons of Quality, such as had the Liberty of wearing the Prætexta; and the Tabernariæ, when Persons of low Rank were mix’d with others of Birth and Figure. From hence it is plain, if the Prætextatæ were a Sort of Tragedies, and the Togatæ Comedies; the Tabernariæ being of a mix’d Nature, were what Plautus calls Tragi-Comedies. Such is the Amphitryo of Plautus, and Hercules Licymnius of the Greeks.” And as absurd as these Poems were, they agreed so far, only, with our Tragi-Comedies, that they mix’d Persons of high and low Rank together; but they never debas’d the Misfortunes of the former with the Lasciviousness of the latter, as is usual with our Writers. As to the Mimi, Pantomimi, the Nomi, and the Attellani, they don’t so much come within the Province of a Criticism on Poetry, as of a History of it; since the Writings of the Ancients, in this Way, are now quite out of Date. They that are desirous of this Part of Knowledge, may consult other Writers, and Vossius particularly. But there’s another Species of Dramatic Folly, which the Ancients were utter Strangers to, the Opera’s, I mean, introduc’d among us from foreign Parts, by the mercenary Traffic of Eunuchs and Courtezans: Among us, I say, and it is with Shame I speak it, who set a Value upon every Thing that is foreign; and are laugh’d at, on that Account, by the very Foreigners we admire. Too fatal an Indication this, of the Depravity of our Taste, as well as of our Manners, when we place the Height of our Pleasure in those Things, which it would be too much to honour, even with a Toleration. Metre, no doubt, is very suitable to Poetry, especially to the Dramatic Kind, and ought often to be us’d there, as it is a proper Instrument of raising or soothing the Passions: But that the whole Drama should be Sing-Song, that the Actors should always appear
Well pair’d to sing,
And ready with each other’s Skill to vie.
that the most insignificant Action, as well as the deepest Passion, should be express’d in Tune; and whether they send a Message, or read a Letter; whether they quarrel, fight, kill, or are kill’d; whether they laugh, or storm, or die; that this should all be perform’d in Song, is somewhat more monstrous than the Poets ever yet describ’d355. Whatever Share of Poetry these Performances can pretend to, is so wretchedly silly, that it does not deserve our Notice. Those Words of Horace are truly applicable to them, and in a more proper Sense, than he was ever aware of:
356 —Versus inopes rerum, nugæque canoræ.
Mere sounding Trifles, Verses void of Sense.
’Tis then for the Music, only, they are follow’d. My sincere Wishes are, that Music may for ever flourish; but by no Means at the Expulsion of Poetry, whereas both Comedy and Tragedy seem, at present, to have been banish’d our Country, and yielded up the Stage to the Opera; I will farther add, if I may say so much, with humble Submission to better Judges, even Music itself, when join’d with these empty Rhythms, seems too light and childish, and, by the frequent Repetition of the same Sound, tiresome. And tho’ I readily grant, that the great Masters of Italy, in former Ages, far exceeded ours; yet we have now such Artists, as, from imitating the immortal Purcell, are arriv’d to a greater Perfection than any which Italy, France, or Germany send us. For, you must know,
Chas’d from their Woods and Bogs the Padders come,
To this vast City, as their native Home.
Dryden.
They live upon us; our ambitious Poverty, our Luxury, Folly, and Vices, are all subservient to their Advantage; to the utter Neglect and Contempt of our own Countrymen. Broken and unnerv’d Britains! into what a shameful Effeminacy are we sunk? Far, far be it from us, to detract, in the least, from the Merit of our Neighbours; but let us not be injurious to our own Countrymen, merely because they are such: Let the Rule hold, not only in greater Things, but even in these of less Moment, (which are yet of greater than they seem to be)
359 —Non possum ferre, Quirites,
Græcam urbem.
To speak my Mind,
I hate in Rome a Grecian Town to find.
Dryden.
Having thus set aside these spurious Offsprings, Comedy and Tragedy remain now to be discours’d of distinctly, after I have first said something of what relates to them in common, that is, to Dramatic Poetry in general.
The History of the ancient Drama, both Greek and Roman, as it does not come within my present Design, I leave to be learnt from Vossius, and others. I shall only lay before you the following Passage, from his Poetical Institutions, which may serve for a short View of it. 360 The Drama, says he, owes its Rise to Days of Festivity. For in ancient Times ’twas usual for Men, when they had collected in the Fruits of the Earth, to meet together, that they might sacrifice to the Deity, and unbend their Minds from the Fatigues of the Harvest. Hence arose two Sorts of Poetry; the one graver, in Praise of the Gods; the other jocose, full of Lampoon against one another. Under the former Head we may reckon the Dithyrambics of Bacchus, Hymns to the Gods, and Panegyrics upon Heroes. Under the second Iambics, and Phallic Verses. The first Essays were rough, and unpolished; but, by Degrees, the great Actions of Gods and Heroes grew more numerous, and increas’d into set Fables: So, in like manner, the jocose Compositions began to come under proper Regulations. Thus from the former Kind arose Tragedy; from the latter, Satire, Comedy, and Mimic.” Thus he, agreeable to which, is Virgil, in his Georgics:
361 —Baccho caper omnibus aris
Cæditur, & veteres ineunt proscenia ludi.
An horn’d He-Goat,
Sacred to Bacchus, on each Altar bleeds;
And ancient Interludes adorn the Scene.
And Horace, in his Epistle to Augustus:
362 Agricolæ prisci fortes, parvoque beati,
Condita post frumenta, levantes tempore festo
Corpus, & ipsum animum, &c.
The ancient Swains, those temp’rate happy Swains,
Contented Sov’reigns of their little Plains,
When all their Corn was hous’d, wou’d make a Feast,
Unbend their Minds, and lay them down to rest;
Their Cares dissolv’d into a happy Thought,
And Minds enjoy’d the Rest their Labour sought.
Creech.
For the same Reason, I shall pass over all the Apparatus of the ancient Drama, of which the foremention’d learned Author, and many others, have treated fully; the Form, for Instance, and Ornaments of the Theatre, the Scene, Proscenium, Pulpitum, Orchæstra; the Habits of the Actors, as the Toga, Pallium, Soccus, Cothurnus, and many other Particulars of the like Nature. I cannot help, indeed, making this one Remark, that the Mask of the Ancients has been, to me, Matter of Astonishment. For can any Thing in the World be more contradictory to Reason? The great Aim of the Drama has always been, to represent Nature herself, and conceal Art, as much as possible: The Poet, therefore, thought it his Business to draw the Characters of Men, as they really were. Is it the Custom, then, I beseech you, either for Kings and Heroes, on the one Hand, or the Commonalty, on the other, to walk about with Masks on? Why, then, do they appear with them, upon the Stage? If it is the Excellence of the Poet to counterfeit Nature, why are so much Pains thrown away, to convince the Spectators, that what they see is but an imperfect Copy of her. This Artifice might do well enough in Puppet Shews: But that the immortal Works of Sophocles and Terence should be murdered with so monstrous a Device, is perfectly amazing. Besides, (to omit the Impediment they must be to the Actor’s Speech) is it usual for Men to preserve the same Countenance in all the possible Variety of Circumstances? Why, then, must they do so upon the Stage? Where are the different Passions, of Joy or Sorrow, and the various Turns of the Muscles that express them? At this Rate, indeed, Horace’s Rule is preserv’d according to the Letter, tho’ very far from the Sense of it:
363 ——Servetur ad imum
Qualis ab incepto processerat, & sibi constet.
Let all the Parts agree, and be alike.
Creech.
I cannot help wondering, that Horace, and the rest of the great Critics of Greece and Rome, should have borne with this Opprobrium of the Theatre364. How much better is it for the Persons to appear as they do among us, with their own Face, and, to use our own academical Term, each habited according to his Degree. Nor am I perfectly satisfied with the Sock and Buskin of the Ancients, tho’ undoubtedly a less Absurdity than the Mask; for we all know, that the Commonalty did not, in Fact, wear the Sock, nor the Nobility the Buskin; and why Actors should appear only as Actors, I can see no Reason, since it is the Business of the Poet to imitate Nature, and conceal Art and Fiction as much as possible.
As I before determin’d to pass over the History, and the Decoration of the Drama, so I had much less Inclination to describe the musical Instruments that were made use of in it; this is rather the Province of Musicians and Antiquaries, than Poets or Criticks. The various Kinds of Flutes, the Tibicines, Choraules, Pythaules, &c. are abundantly explain’d by Vossius, whom we have often had Occasion to mention.
To come, then, at last, to the Subject that properly concerns us: The Drama, I define to be, A Poem containing some certain Action, and representing a true picture of human Life, for the Delight and Improvement of Mankind.
A certain Action I say, in the singular, because it ought to be but one; two do but distract the Minds of the Audience, and create more Uneasiness than Pleasure. In many, indeed, I may say most Tragedies, as well as Comedies, but in Comedies more particularly, two Actions seem to be carried on; but they are often only seemingly two, not so in Reality. One of them is so subservient to the other, so united, and interwoven with it, that it must be reckon’d rather a Part of the same, than a distinct Action. Like a small River that branches out from a greater, which returns to its first Channel, and is totally lost in it. But in some Plays the Action is entirely one, and tho’ the other Kind may be justly admitted, nay, often admir’d; yet this must be allow’d the more excellent of the two; for it requires a much nicer Art to excite Pleasure and Admiration by a proper Conduct of one simple Tale, than from a Variety of surprizing Incidents. Besides, when the Mind is solicitous only about one Event, the Thoughts are more close and compact, the Expectation more attentive, the Concern more exquisite, and the Impressions strike deeper than when it is distracted and weaken’d between two different Prospects. Here, therefore, Horace’s Rule is more peculiarly directed, tho’ propos’d by him in general:
True, indeed, it is, according to the Principles of Nature, and Natural Philosophy, that all Things, the more simple they are, and less compounded, are the more perfect, and less subject to Change and Corruption, to Vice and Error. This appears manifestly, from a Comparison between the Body and Soul, the Creature and the Creator.
Twentieth Lecture.
Tho’ the Words, Fable, Action, and Design, are frequently us’d indiscriminately, they have each of them peculiar and distinct Ideas. By the Action is meant some Adventure of one or other of the principal Persons, attended by a great and memorable Event. By the Fable, or Plot, a Heap of Incidents, Episodes, and Other Things, which are subservient to the carrying on the Action, and bringing it to a Conclusion. The Design is a particular Disposal of the several Parts, so as they may be artfully interwoven, and unfolded. What we call the Distinction of Persons or Characters, the Passions, Thought and Diction, are certain Adjuncts and Circumstances adhering to the Persons represented. These Things, tho’ of the greatest Moment, and the chief Concern of the Poet, which we shall treat of singly in their proper Place, it shall suffice to have mention’d only at present; because they don’t so properly come under the Head we are upon, of the Drama in general. When we come to the distinct species of it, these will then offer themselves very naturally.
I would now, however, observe, that those general Precepts of Horace relate to the Drama, where he speaks first of the Passions, Thought, and Diction:
366 Non satis est pulchra esse poemata; dulcia sunto,
Et, quo unque volent, animum auditoris agunto.
Ut ridentibus arrident, ita fientibus adflent
Humani vultus: Si vis me flere, dolendum est
Primum ipsi tibi; tunc tua me infortunia lædunt,
Telephe, vel Peleu: male si mandata loqueris,
Aut dormitabo, aut ridebo. Tristia mœstum
Vultum verba decent, iratum plena minarum,
Ludentem lasciva, severum seria dicta.
Format enim natura prius nos intus ad omnem
Fortunarum habitum; juvat, aut impellit ad iram,
Aut ad humum mœrore gravi deducit, & angit:
Post effert animi motus, interprete lingua.
He that wou’d have Spectators share his Grief,
Must write not only well, but movingly,
And raise Mens Passions to what Height he will.
We weep and laugh, as we see others do.
He only makes me sad, who shews the Way,
And first is sad himself. Then, Telephus,
I feel the Weight of your Calamities,
And fancy all your Miseries my own;
But if you act them ill, I sleep, or laugh:
Your Looks must alter, as your Subject does,
From kind to fierce, from wanton to severe;
For Nature forms and softens us within,
And writes our Fortunes Changes in our Face.
Pleasure enchants, impetuous Rage transports,
And Grief dejects, and wrings the tortur’d Soul,
And these are all interpreted by Speech.
Roscom.
Next of the Characters, or the different Circumstances, and Dispositions of the Persons:
367 Si dicentis erunt fortunis absona dicta,
Romani tollent Equites, Peditesque cachinnum.
Intererit multum Davusne loquatur, an Heros,
Maturusne senex, an adhuc florente juventa
Fervidus, an matrona potens, an sedula nutrix,
Mercatorne vagus, cultorne virentis agelli,
Colchus, an Assyrius, Thebis nutritus, an Argis.
But he whose Words and Fortune disagree,
Absurd, unpitied, grows a public Jest.
Observe the Characters of those that speak,
Whether an honest Servant, or a Cheat;
Or one whose Blood boils in his youthful Veins,
Or a grave Matron, or a busy Nurse,
Extorting Merchants, careful Husbandmen,
Argives or Thebans, Asians or Greeks.
Roscom.
The subject Matter of this Kind of Poem, is call’d the Fable tho’ it is often grounded upon true History; because the greatest Part of it is fabulous, tho’ the Fiction be intermix’d with Matter of Fact. When it is not so, it ought to be styled rather a Dramatical History, than Drama; of which Sort are many of the Plays of our celebrated Countryman368, who has crowded together the Annals of some of our Kings, without any Regard to the dramatical Rules of Time or Place. But in other Respects, he
369 —Spirat tragicum satis, & feliciter audet.
With happy Boldness draws a tragic Scene.
Yes, extremely happy, and in these Works, but more especially in his truer Tragedies, has deserv’d well of Posterity.
But often the Drama, properly so call’d, is built upon true History; as the Octavia of Seneca, and many of our modern Tragedies, both English and French, (for Comedy has rarely such a Foundation; but is either rais’d from some private Fact, which, tho’ true, is below History; or from Fiction only;) sometimes, indeed, it is built upon Fable, but such as is common, and well known; as the Trachiniæ of Sophocles, Oedipus, &c. the Author disposing of the Fable according to his own Fancy, and giving it a new Appearance: According to that of Horace:
370 Publica materies privati juris erit, si
Nec circa vilem, patulumque moraberis orbem,
Nec verbum verbo curabis reddere, fidus Interpres.
For what originally others writ,
May be so well disguis’d, and so improv’d,
That with some Justice it may pass for yours.
Roscommon.
Sometimes it is built upon the Poet’s Invention only, who forms an entire Plot out of his own Head. Most of the Ancients, both Greeks and Romans, form’d their Tragedies upon fabulous History; most of the Moderns either upon true History, or upon Fiction of their own Invention, or such as has been borrow’d from Romances of later Writers; which tho’ they are fabulous, are not, however, trite and vulgar, like several of the Ancients; as the Medea, for Instance, Hercules, Iphigenia, and the like.
In the Foundation of the Drama, Horace’s Rule, in the first Place, ought to be observ’d:
371 Aut famam sequere, aut sibi convenientia finge,
Scriptor.
Follow Report, or feign coherent Things.
Roscommon.
If it is built either upon true or fabulous History, let nothing be introduc’d contrary to the Notices we have receiv’d from Fame or History, of the Persons concern’d in it. For, in this Case, the Faith of the one, and the Report of the other, would openly contradict the Fiction. A noble Critic of ours372 has severely lash’d a certain Poet373 for this Fault, viz. for representing Hannibal soft, effeminate, and languishing in the Blandishments of Love; and Scipio passionate, and head-strong. But if the whole is Fiction, let it be Fiction according to Probability. Let the Writer take care that the Parts don’t disagree, and contradict each other. Here, again, Horace’s Maxim is of Force:
374 Si quid inexpertum scenæ committis, & audes
Personam formare novam; servetur ad imum
Qualis ab incepto processerit, & sibi constet.
If your bold Muse dare tread unbeaten Paths,
And bring new Characters upon the Stage,
Be sure you keep them up to their first Height.
Roscommon.
To follow Fame in an honest Sense, and to form a good Poem out of History, requires much Art, and no small Invention. But a Poet that works wholly upon his own Stock, shews scarce less Art, but certainly more Invention. The latter is, in my Judgment, the more noble Task. As it is wholly new, it is sure to afford more Pleasure to the Audience, and Honour to the Writer: He may be said, in some Sense, to create his Materials, and is, therefore, in the most proper one, a Poet.
I am well aware, that what I have here advanc’d, seems to contradict the following Opinion of Horace:
375 Difficile est proprie communia dicere; tuque
Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus,
Quam si proferres ignota, indictaque primus.
New Subjects are not easily explain’d,
And you had better chuse a well-known Theme,
Than trust to an Invention of your own.
Roscom.
But not to insist that the Authority of the best of Poets and Criticks is not to supersede Reason and Experience; it is to be observ’d, that dramatical Invention has been much improv’d since the Times in which Horace writ: And had he seen some of our late Tragedies, form’d upon Fiction only, he would, perhaps, have retracted his Opinion. It is a difficult Thing, I allow, to express Common Things in a proper Manner, that is, to change and heighten some noted,376 stale Subject, so as to give it a new Appearance, and make it the Writer’s own; and the Observation is of great Weight: But, all Things consider’d, whether we regard the Difficulty or the Elegance, the Judgment or Ingenuity of each Composition; greater Glory seems to be due to him that produces a new Plan of his own Invention, than that changes, and gives new Life to an old one.
According to the modern Criticks, every regular Play consists of three Unities, viz. of Time, Place, and Action. I have already spoke of the last: The first, I would observe, is very improperly styled an Unity. Place and Action may admit of Number; but Time, howsoever extended, does not cease to be one, with Respect to the Action which is continu’d by it. This Observation, I own, is but of little Moment, since all that make use of the Term, sufficiently understand the Meaning of it, however inaccurately express’d.
As to Time, Aristotle, and after him the great Vossius, and others, will not allow it above the Compass of one Day; for which Reason, the Heautontimoroumenos of Terence is reckon’d faulty, because it takes up an entire Day, and part of another. But if we were to reduce Things to the greatest Exactness, the Action of the Drama ought not to be longer than Representation of it upon the Stage. This, no doubt, would be the compleatest Rule, could it be practis’d. But tho’ it will rarely or never pass for a Probability, that so great Events should fall out in so short a Time, yet we ought to come as near to this Maxim as we can. To see the Ten Years Trojan War crowded into the narrow Limits of one Tragedy, about three or four Hours long, appears, at first View, not only improbable, but impossible, and will be rejected by the Audience as a monstrous Imposition on their Understanding.
The Unity of Place ought to be preserv’d, for the same Reason I before alledg’d for the Unity of Time. The one supposes the other; for if Place is varied, Time must be so too. If the Action takes up but a few Hours, it is impossible it should be carried on in Places widely distant. On the other Hand, if it is transacted partly at London, and partly at Oxford, a few Hours will not be sufficient. But there’s another Reason, with Regard even to Place itself, why this Rule, concerning the Unity of it, ought to be observ’d. What an Absurdity is it, for a Spectator to suppose himself one Minute at Rome, and the next at Paris? We cannot but despise a Poet, who is such a Bungler at Fiction, as, in a different Sense from that of Horace,
377 —Modo me Thebis, modo ponit Athenis.
Now places me at Athens, now at Thebes.
It is beyond the Power of any Magic to transport us into different Places, not only at the same Time, but even while we are in the same Place. The usual Limits of the Drama are within the Compass of one Town or City: This some think too great, others too narrow an Extent. Larger it certainly ought not to be: Nor is this probably too large. For tho’ it may not seem very natural for the Audience to be carried from one End of the City to the other; yet it may be impossible, perhaps, to represent the Action itself, and some other Circumstances attending it, in less Compass; and, as we said before of Time, when we cannot come up to Truth, it must suffice to come as near to it as possible. For, as Horace says, upon another Occasion,
What if of farther Progress you despair,
’Tis somewhat, surely, to have gone so far.
Creech.
However, they are much more in the wrong, who confine the general Scene within one Room, or Chamber; for it is ridiculous to suppose, that Persons of most distant Circumstances should meet, or Actions of the most different Kind be perform’d, in the same Place, or in so narrow an one. Truth, then, seems to lie, as it generally does, between both Extremes; and one House, perhaps, may be said to be the just Extent of the dramatical Scene. It ought not to be of greater Extent, because Persons of all Ranks and Qualities are, in Reality, contain’d under one Roof, and Actions of all Kinds perform’d in that Compass. It ought not to be of a narrower; because the Spectators, whether they sit in the Pit, or Boxes, may very easily conceive different Parts of the same House represented in the Scenes, since the Theatre is large enough to contain one House entire, and both the Persons of the Drama, and the Spectators themselves, may be suppos’d to move from one Side of it to the other.
These Unities of Action, Time, and Place, ought very carefully to be observ’d. For tho’ a Play, form’d upon the most regular Plans, will gain but little Applause, if it is destitute of the true poetic Spirit; so will it deserve as little, how much soever it may be set off with Decoration, if it offends against the Rules of the Drama. The former, with all its Regularity, is cold and lifeless; the latter, with all in Brightness, absurd and ridiculous. Let Rules be first the Basis of the Poem, and from a right Disposal of these, let the Ornaments arise naturally, and with Ease. Colouring in Painting, is, no doubt, an Excellence; but we are not to be so studious of it, as to neglect Proportion, and transgress the Laws of Optics. Besides, great Judgment and Caution must be us’d, that we don’t adhere so close to one Rule, as to violate another. Horace’s Observation is here undoubtedly just:
Thus Fear of Erring, join’d with want of Skill,
Is a most certain Way of erring still.
Roscom.
A Misfortune, which, in this Case, it is very difficult to guard against.
To these three Unities, as they are usually reckon’d up, we may not improperly add a fourth: That of Character, which I just mention’d before, but now design to explain more fully. By a Character, I understand, that Assemblage of Circumstances which discriminates one Man from another; such as Age, Fortune, Manners, and Inclination. In this Respect, then, let each Person be one from Beginning to the End. Not that he is always to betray the same Sentiments, or one Passion; this would be as absurd as it is tedious; but that he should never speak, nor act repugnant to his own fundamental Character. An old or young Man, for Instance, a King or Servant may, nay, ought, as Occasion serves, to shew the common Passions of Joy or Sorrow. But for an old Man to be introduced in the first Act; and to appear a young one in the second, is inverting Nature. Again, the Meek may sometimes sally into a Warmth, and the Breast of the Passionate be calm; a Change which often introduces in the Drama very affecting Variety: But if the natural Disposition of the former was to be represented as boisterous, and that of the latter mild and soft, they would both act out of Character, and contradict their Persons. The Temper of a Man, I own, is sometimes entirely chang’d; a vicious Disposition may be reform’d, and a good one corrupted: But this is a Change which cannot be wrought in so short a Time as the Action of the Drama takes up. It may be much doubted, therefore whether the unravelling of the Plot in Terence’s Adelphi is agreeable to Truth and Nature, where Demea, from an old Miser, turns, of a sudden, profuse, and lays aside his Moroseness, for Good-nature; and Micio, who had hitherto liv’d single, and dreaded the married State as the greatest of Sins, in his old Age, at last, by the Persuasion of his Brother and Nephew, marries an old Woman, without a Fortune.
Twenty-first Lecture.
The English Drama differs in nothing more from the ancient, than in Narration and Action. Of both these Heads, Horace delivers himself thus:
380 Aut agitur Res in scenis, aut acta refertur.
Segnius irritant animos demissa per aurem,
Quam quæ sunt oculis subjecta fidelibus, & quæ
Ipse sibi tradit spectator: Non tamen intus
Digna geri promes in scenam; multaque tolles
Ex oculis, quæ mox narret facundia præsens.
Nec pueros coram populo Medea trucidet,
Aut humana palam coquat exta nefarius Atreus;
Aut in avem Progne mutetur, Cadmus in anguem:
Quodcunque ostendis mihi sic, incredulus odi.
Some Things are acted, others only told;
But what we hear, moves less than what we see:
Spectators only have their Eyes to trust,
But Auditors must trust their Ears and you;
Yet there are Things improper for a Scene,
Which Men of Judgment only will relate.
Medea must not draw her murd’ring Knife,
And spill her Children’s Blood upon the Stage;
Nor Atreus there his horrid Feast prepare:
Cadmus’s and Progne’s Metamorphosis,
(She to a Swallow turn’d, he to a Snake)
And whatsoever contradicts my Sense,
I hate to see, and never can believe.
Roscom.
We then have more Action, and less Narration, than the Ancients, who, in this Particular, are imitated in Tragedy, by the French, and most other Nations. But if our British Writers may presume to dissent from so great Authority, I would ask, Why may not Ladies of the first Rank be suppos’d to speak in Comedy; or Heroes sometimes combat, or even die upon the Stage, in Tragedy? There’s no Absurdity in this; nothing contrary to Art or Nature; often much conducive to Terror or Compassion. No one, indeed, would bear to see Atreus represented boiling human Flesh; it is too ghastly a Spectacle to be expos’d to View; and, instead of Pity, or Terror, would excite Detestation. For the same Reason, Medea, killing her Sons, should not be exhibited. But there are still some images of Death less shocking, which may be well adapted to the Stage. I own, however, we are apt to introduce some Things publickly, which had better have been sunk in Narration, and some in Silence, if Regard were had to the inviolable Rules of Modesty, Decency, and Virtue. Upon the whole, then, the Ancients brought too little into Action, and we too much.
Upon this Head, I would only observe farther, that I have one Scruple remaining from these Words, incredulus odi, in the Passage I above cited from Horace. Things that are not at all incredible, may, for several other Reasons, be improper to be represented, tho’ they may make a very becoming Narration: And what exceeds all Belief, we shall no more bear to hear, than behold. And even those Instances which Horace mentions as improper to be represented, have nothing incredible in them, but upon other Accounts are not fit to be obtruded upon the Spectators. The Answer to this Objection is, that the Words incredulus odi are not to be taken separately, but jointly. Of the Sights Horace mentions, some are odious, others incredible; not incredible in the Nature of Things, for they are suppos’d to be Miracles exceeding all human Power; but incredible in theatrical Representation. Such monstrous Changes, as of Progne into a Bird; Cadmus into a Serpent; are too gross to be impos’d upon the Senses: They are Representations, therefore, not so much odious, as ridiculous.
There is one Fault which almost all the dramatic Writers, both Tragic and Comic, Ancient and Modern, have fallen into; that, I mean, of introducing a Person who has no other Business but to hold out a Dialogue, and hear a Story. This, to omit other Examples, is the Case, in two of Terence’s Comedies, the Andria, and Phormio. In the former of which, Sofia is introduc’d, that Simo may lay before him the whole Plot of the Play; afterwards we neither see him, nor hear a Word of him more. In the latter, Davus holds a Colloquy with Geta, only to hear the Amours of Phædria and Antipho, which he has nothing to do with: Then he goes off the Stage, and never sets Foot upon it more: Whereas, all that support a Dialogue of any Moment, ought, in some Measure, to be interested in the Business of the Play, from one End to the other. But these adventitious Persons destroy the Beauty and Symmetry of it; which ought not, like Gothick Buildings, to be disfigur’d with Props and Buttresses, and other superfluous Out-works; but form’d rather according to the Rules of ancient Architecture, where all the Columns, and several Parts of the Fabrick, mutually support each other; where there’s nothing but what is necessary, nothing but what is beautiful; and the whole therefore beautiful, because every Thing is necessary.
But farther; that all the Parts may rightly cohere together, some Reason should appear, why each Person goes out, and comes in. This is a Rule of great Moment, tho’ generally over-look’d; and yet there is nothing in the whole Compass of the Drama, more elegant, or more difficult; nothing in which Art and Judgment are more nearly concern’d. Exit such an one, says the Poet; enter another: But a Reason may often be ask’d, both for one, and the other. It is not enough to answer, it was necessary, for the Author’s main Design, that it should be so. The Audience ought to be appriz’d of the Business for which the several Persons come in, and go out, and on what Account the Stay of any of them would have been improper. With these Notices, every Thing will appear to them easy and natural; but Otherwise, forc’d, and inconsistent. As a Play is divided into Acts, so are the Acts into Scenes. The former the more ancient Division of the two. The Act concludes, when the Stage is left entirely empty; and a new one begins, as soon as one or more Persons come on again; the intermediate Time being taken up with Dancing or Music. The Scene changes as every Actor comes in, or goes out, according to the general Opinion; but in mine, I think a Play had better be divided into Acts only, without any Distinction of Scenes between the Acts: For the Place, during one Act, is always the same, and without intermission of Persons or Discourse. Thus, I say, it is, in all Performances, that are writ according to the true Rules of the Drama. But if any one shall maintain, that the Scene ought to change with every Actor’s coming in, or going out, I shall not contend much about it, since it is a Dispute about Words, rather than Things. This, however, is certain, that what we call broken Scenes, ought to be totally avoided; those, I mean, where, in one and the same Act, the Play is disjointed, and the Stage, for some Time, left vacant. To omit the innumerable Instances I might give of this, among the Moderns, as well as Ancients, I shall mention Terence only, and one only of his Plays, the Eunuch. In the third Act, Thais, Thraso, Parmeno, Gnatho, and Pythias, make up the second Scene; and at the Conclusion of it they all leave the Stage. In the third Scene Chremes appears alone, and, for some Time, talks by himself; at length, Pythias comes in to him, and, after a few Speeches, both go out together: In the next Scene enters Antipho, he again alone. In the first Scene of the fourth Act Dorias comes in alone; she goes out, and then comes Phædria alone. This incoherent Connexion of the several Parts of a Play, is not less disagreeable than it would be in Architecture. The different Parts of a Fabrick are to be divided; but in an artful and commodious Manner. The several Acts in a Play resemble the Wings of a Building; but broken Scenes are like gaping, disjointed Walls.
This leads me naturally to say somewhat of Soliloquies, too much in Use with Terence, and others. They are not, indeed, totally to be rejected, but very suitable to some sort of Matter, provided they are sparingly us’d; particularly, they serve to unload the Mind of too much Grief or Joy; but are of more especial Use in Speeches of the deliberative Kind. They are more adapted to Tragedy than Comedy; for it is most natural for Men to converse with themselves, when Matters of Moment and Concern lie heavy upon their Minds381. But Terence often introduces a Person, not to deliberate about Difficulties, but to relate what has pass’d. In which Case, the Narration must be made to the Audience, or the Walls; and it is hard to say which of the two is the more absurd Supposition.
Donatus, speaking upon this Subject of the Drama, lays it down for a Rule, as Vossius cites him, that no Person ought to go off the Stage, above five Times. And Vossius382 himself says, immediately after: That this Rule, tho’ it holds good in Tragedy, where the Persons, as they are grave, so are likewise few; yet in Comedy is not always regarded. No, say I, nor ought it to be regarded, either in Tragedy, or Comedy. And if I may be so bold as to dissent from so great a Name as Horace, I cannot see the Reason of that Rule of his, pretty much to the same Purpose:
And in one Scene no more than three shou’d speak.
Roscommon.
What should hinder, but every one may go in or out above five, six, or even ten Times, either in Tragedy, or Comedy, if he pleases? Or where’s the Impropriety of more than three Speakers upon the Stage at once? There are Maxims that have no Foundation in Truth, nor do they in the least promote the Order of the Drama, or the Pleasure of the Audience. They don’t flow from the Nature of Things, but only from the arbitrary Will of the Directors. A Poet shackles himself to no Purpose, with these Fetters; and only makes his Performance appear stiff and lifeless, with the Severity of them. He might with as much Reason prescribe to himself the determinate Number of Lines his Play should consist of. In all these Things a Writer is left to his Liberty, and the only Rule that can be given is, to observe none.
As little do I see the Reason of Vossius’s384 Rule, in regard to the Number of Actors: That there should not be above fourteen. To be sure there ought not to be more; and, if we except the Mutes, concerning whom there’s no Occasion to lay down any Rule, there ought not, perhaps, to be so many. But for the Reasons I before mention’d, I cannot see any for fixing a determinate Number. Every Thing of this Nature is to be left entirely to the Discretion of the writer.
Nor is there any Necessity, from the Nature of the Thing, that there should be just five Acts in a Play, according to that of Horace,
385 Neve minor, neu sit quinto productior actu
Fabula, quæ posci vult, & spectata reponi.
Five Acts are just the Measure of a Play.
Rosc.
After him, Vossius, and others, In a Play there are neither more nor less than Five Acts. So, indeed, the Ancients have determin’d, and Custom has prevail’d; and this, no doubt, is a very proper Division; but there’s no Foundation for it in Nature, and even the Acts are now, and always have been, of uncertain Length. And Vossius, in the same Discourse386, observes, Some think a Play may consist only of four Acts, provided it be of a proper Length, such as may be seen with Pleasure, and understood with Ease. And ’tis a Remark of Lambinus’s that Tully, and some others of the Ancients, mention the third and fourth as the last Act, without any Notice of the fifth; so that the fourth may be understood the last. Nay, in his first Epistle to his Brother Quintus, the third seems to be the last Act. The Words are these: “Illud te ad extremum & oro, & hortor, ut tanquam poetæ boni, & actores industrii solent, sic tu in extrema parte & conclusione muneris, ac negotii tui, diligentissimus sis; ut hic tertius annus imperii tui, tanquam tertius actus, perfectissimus, atque ornatissimus, fuisse videatur. Lastly, I beg and intreat you to exert yourself in the Conclusion of your Office, as artful Poets, and good Actors use to do; that so this third Year of your Command, may be like the third Act of a Play, the most perfect and ornamental.” Unless Tully meant no more than that as Poets have a chief Regard to the last Act, you should have the same for your third Year; which is to you, your last Act.
I can by no means agree with the learned Author concerning the Distribution of the Business that is to be perform’d in each Act; who delivers himself in this Manner: “The first Act opens the Plot, but not the Event of it; because it would afford less Surprize, to be known before-hand. The second brings on the Design into Action. The third raises some Embarras. The fourth shews the Way by which all Difficulties may be remov’d. The last artfully removes them.” I readily grant, the first Act ought to open the Plot. But this may be partly done in the second; nor is it necessary the whole of it should be laid open in the first. The first, likewise, as well as the second, may produce it into Action: The second, as well as the third, may raise an Embarras; and the fourth no less than the other two. The fourth ought not openly to discover how Difficulties may be remov’d, the Business, rather, of the fifth, which does that, and somewhat more. In this Case, then, (as I said before in another) Rules are arbitrarily prescrib’d, without any Foundation in Nature; but all these Things are to be dispos’d according to the free Discretion of the Writer. Were it otherwise, the Audience would, in some Measure, know before-hand what they are to expect in every Act. There’s no Necessity that one or the other Part of Action should be peculiar to this or that Act; nor are any Rules requir’d about it, except those which we are now coming to, that relate to what are term’d Protasis, Epitasis, and Catastrophe.
Twenty-second Lecture.
The threefold Division of the Drama, into Protasis, Epitasis, and Catastrophe, or, as others, in the Terms of Aristotle, to the very same Effect, into Prologue, Episode, and Exode, seems very natural and easy; tho’ neither of these Divisions is peculiar to any Act. By Protasis is meant that Part which is a Narrative of what has pass’d, and an Introduction to what is to follow: In the Epitasis, Incidents as they are call’d by the Moderns, arise; all Things are in Confusion, involv’d in Doubts and Difficulties; and the Audience anxious, and trembling for the Birth of Fate. The Catastrophe clears up every Thing; and is nothing else but the Discovery, or winding up of the Plot. But these Parts, as I said before, are not assignable to any particular ones of the Drama: There’s no Necessity that all the Protasis should be contain’d in the first Act. The Catastrophe, indeed, has its peculiar Place; for it ought to be entirely contain’d, not only in the last Act, but even in the very Conclusion of it; and when the Plot is finish’d, the Play should be so too. The Epitasis runs thro’ the whole, except the Beginning, and the Conclusion; the former is taken up entirely with part of the Protasis, or the whole of it; the latter with the Catastrophe. ’Tis the Epitasis, then, that supports the Weight and Burden of the Poem, upon which the Crisis of the Action chiefly turns. It far exceeds, therefore, the other two, in Extent; as it contains all the Revolutions of Circumstances, the sudden Changes, and surprizing Events, till, at length, we come to the Catastrophe, the last, and most surprizing Event of all.
If what we have now said is true, ’tis plain Vossius has not given a right Account of this Matter. “Of these Parts in Comedy, the Protasis, says he387, is contain’d in the first Act, and sometimes, likewise, in the second: The Epitasis in the second, sometimes the third, and fourth, but very rarely any Part of it in the fifth: The Catastrophe takes up sometimes the fourth Act, or Part of it, but always the whole fifth, or almost the whole. From whence it appears, that the Division of the Greeks, into Protasis, Epitasis, Catastrophe and Choricus, is a better one than that of the Romans into five Acts: For the Greek Division distinguishes the Drama into Parts that differ in Nature; whereas the other Division into Acts, considers them only as different in Quantity, without regard to any internal Distinction.” Now to pass over his mentioning Comedy, whereas Tragedy is equally concern’d in this Division, I allow it to be very true, that the Protasis is contain’d in the first Act, and sometimes in the second likewise; and I will add, sometimes in any other Act; tho’ this seems to contradict Vossius’s Opinion in another Place, where he says, The first Act unfolds the Plot, as if that was the peculiar Business of the first Act. I grant, also, that the Epitasis is contain’d in the second, the third, and fourth; but let me add, likewise, partly in the first, and partly in the fifth: For there’s no Act to which the Epitasis is not suitable; and I must be so bold as to deny, what this learned Author asserts, that there’s rarely any Part of it in the fifth; so far is this from being true, that some of it ought always to be in the fifth. Nor do I grant that the Catastrophe takes up sometimes the fourth Act, or Part of it, but always the whole fifth, or almost the whole. For the Catastrophe ought to turn, as we say, upon a Point, to start up, on a sudden; as soon as that is discover’d, the Play should conclude; and this End once obtain’d, all the Action cease: Otherwise, the Curiosity of the Audience will be pall’d, and what promis’d Pleasure, will then appear insipid and tedious. Nor had Vossius any good Reason to compare this Division of Protasis, Epitasis, and Catastrophe, with that of five Acts, as if these two Divisions were inconsistent388, whereas, from what has been said, it appears, they are very compatible, nay, I may say, include each other.
Scaliger389 defines the Catastrophe to be a Turn of Affairs that were before embroil’d into an unexpected Calm; and Evanthius,(as Vossius390 cites him) a Turn of Affairs to a happy Conclusion, after the Audience have been Witnesses to what has pass’d. Both wrong: For (as the same Vossius well observes) both Definitions suit only a Comic Catastrophe, not a Dramatic one in general. His own Definition is just, That it is the End of a Play, where Fortune is seen to terminate in good or ill Success.
The great Care in the Catastrophe is, that the clearing up of all Difficulties may appear wonderful, and yet easy, simple, and natural. What Cicero says of Friendship, is true of the Dramatic Fable, it is a Knot that must be untied, not cut: And in such a Manner, that tho’ all admire the Event, yet, at the same Time, are sensible within themselves, that the Stream of Affairs could scarce have taken another Course. This, I confess, is a difficult Task; indeed nothing can be more so, than to raise our Astonishment from the regular Effects of Nature. There are, however, some Instances of this Art, that can never be enough admir’d; among the modern Writers especially, and no where more than among those of our own Country; who, in the Conduct and Design of the Drama, in my Opinion, leave the Ancients very far behind them.
Another Thing the Poet should take Care of is, to conceal the Event from the Audience till the Conclusion of the Play. The Reason of this is so plain, that I need not assign any. I cannot, therefore, but wonder at the preposterous Artifice of some Writers, who shew the Catastrophe of the Play, in the very Title of it. We have an English Tragedy, truly excellent in all other Respects, entitul’d, Venice Preserv’d; or the Plot discover’d. How much better would this have become the last Page, than the first? Here one may apply the Words of a late ingenious Poet of our own, tho’ in a little different Sense391:
Vestibulum ante ipsum, primoque in limine, Finis
Scribitur
Too soon, undoubtedly, for the Author’s Reputation, is Venice preserv’d; too soon the Plot discover’d, for the Reader’s Diversion.
To these three Parts of the Drama, Scaliger adds a fourth; viz. the Catastasis which he defines to be392, The full Growth of the Fable, while Things are at a Stand in that Confusion to which the Poet has brought them. But I can’t see how this differs from Epitasis, in which, according to his own Definition, all Things appear involv’d in Confusion, or Uncertainty.
What the Moderns call Incidents, are such Events as start up of a sudden in the Course of the Drama, that are concomitant to the main Design, and conduce to the bringing on the Catastrophe and yet are not of so great Moment as to constitute distinct, or even subordinate Actions. These are very serviceable in exciting Admiration; and the nicest Art is shewn in the proper Conduct of them to that Purpose.
There’s one Fault, which both ancient and modern Writers are often guilty of, viz. of introducing entire Scenes, or the greatest Part of them, only that the Actors may have an Opportunity of making some fine Speeches, and the Authors of shewing their Wit; without contributing, in the least, to the main Business of the Drama: Whereas, in Truth, no Scene, of any Length, ought to be writ only for Decoration. There may, nay, must be many ornamental Parts; but no considerable one should be nothing else but Ornament. As, in Architecture, sumptuous Edifices are embellish’d with Entablatures, Relievo’s, and Sculpture; but no Part of them, of any Bulk, or Weight, should be added, for nothing else but Embellishment. The Reason is, because the very Essence of Beauty consists in a genuine Simplicity; such as Nature shews in the wonderful System of the Universe.
Among the Moderns, the chief, almost the only Subject of Tragedy, as well as Comedy, is Love; not so with the Ancients, who seem, in this Particular, to have judg’d better than we do. For tho’ it must be allow’d Love is the most prevailing Passion of human Nature, and the great Businesses of the World, both public and private, are chiefly govern’d by it; yet there are others, as Ambition, and Friendship, to name no more, which may either singly, or jointly, be the proper Subject of the Drama; tho’ I own its Progress would be much facilitated, if predominant Love interven’d to accelerate the Springs of Action. This Passion, like the Primum Mobile in the ancient System, drives round the lesser Fires, as so many Stars, within its own Vortex; and is, therefore, by its active Power, far the most productive of Thoughts, Words, and Events; and the best adapted to excite Pleasure and Admiration. But, for that Reason, as it is an Attempt the most difficult, so is it the most noble, to please an Audience without this Ingredient, which both the Ancients and Moderns have sometimes very happily effected. All Terence’s Comedies are upon the Subject of Love; not so those of Aristophanes: But, among the Moderns, I have not seen one without it. Tragedies there are many, absolutely free from it, especially ancient ones; as those of Sophocles, and Euripides, which are adapted to infuse Terror, rather than Compassion; and don’t so much aim at appearing soft and delicate, as grand and magnificent. And among the Moderns, especially our Countrymen, we have the Tragedies of Sejanus, Catiline, and Julius Cæsar, to name no more, who all meet their Fate without any Love to hasten it. But the Poets of the present, and foregoing Age, are full of Love, not only in their Tragedies and Comedies, but in every other Composition: That of Terence, tho’ in a different Sense, may be applied to each of them, amore abundas; they abound with Love, or rather run over with it. But more of this, perhaps, when we come to speak of Tragedy and Comedy distinctly.
To the same Place I must likewise postpone, what remains to be said of the Chorus of the Ancients, for this, as I once before hinted, they added over and above to the Protasis, Epitasis, and Catastrophe. I pass it over here, because it is not, like these I have now treated of, an essential Part of the Drama, and is totally laid aside by the Moderns, in my Opinion very deservedly. I shall, however, make some Observations upon it, in a proper Place, since it made a Part of the old Comedy, and was continu’d in all the Tragedies of the Ancients.
Nor shall I here draw a Comparison between the ancient dramatic Writers and the Moderns; this I shall attempt in the distinct Dissertations that are to follow. I would only observe, in a Word, that as we have more bad Plays than they, so have we more that are truly beautiful; they have fewer that deserve Censure, and fewer that merit Praise; they more correct, we strike out into brighter Excellencies.
Thus much may suffice to explain the Definition we at first laid down, of a dramatic Performance, except what relates to the last Clause of it, that it is form’d for the Delight and Improvement of Mankind. Of the first, viz. the Delight, I have said enough already: And as to Improvement, it ought to be the End of all Poetry in general, but of the Drama more particularly, whose Business it is to set before our Eyes the different Courses of Life; the Virtues and Vices, Happiness and Misery, that attend Mankind in each of them. The Drama is so exact a Picture of Human Life, that sometimes we are said to copy That; according to that noted Saying, Totus mundus agit Histrioniam; The World is but a theatrical Entertainment: Which Comparison is beautifully carried on by Lucian in his Dialogue, entituled, Χαρων, or Επισκοπαντεϛ. It ought, therefore, to be an invariable Rule, which is but sometimes follow’d, to direct the Plot to some moral End, and upon winding up the Catastrophe, to leave it upon the Audience with some useful Precept. How little this has been observ’d, by the Poets of the last and present Age, I am asham’d to say; most of whose Writings, but Comedies in particular, are so full of Filth and Obscenities, that, far from serving the Cause of Virtue, they are the very Panders of Lust and Impurities. I could wish to see some Remedy applied to so great an Evil. In the mean Time, let all good Men shun the Contagion; and let not the Infamy of it fall upon Poetry itself, but upon her impure Professors.
Notes
354 Et cantare pares, & respondere paratos.
357 —Huc omnes tanquam ad vivaria currunt.
358 Vincat amor patriæ——
His Country’s Love
Shall conquer.
365 —Sit quod vis simplex duntaxat & unum.
378 Est quadam prodire tenus, si non datur ultra.
379 In vitium ducit culpæ fuga, si caret arte.
383 —Nec quarta loqui persona laboret.