knows
how to give suitable attributes to every character. I should direct the
learned imitator to have a regard to the mode of nature and manners, and
thence draw his expressions to the life. Sometimes a play, that is
showy with common-places, and where the manners are well marked, though
of no elegance, without force or art, gives the people much higher
delight and more effectually commands their attention, than verse void
of matter, and tuneful trifles.
To the Greeks, covetous of nothing but praise, the muse gave genius; to
the Greeks the power of expressing themselves in round periods. The
Roman youth learn by long computation to subdivide a pound into an
hundred parts. Let the son of Albinus tell me, if from five ounces one
be subtracted, what remains? He would have said the third of a
pound.--Bravely done! you will be able to take care of your own affairs.
An ounce is added: what will that be? Half a pound. When this sordid
rust and hankering after wealth has once tainted their minds, can we
expect that such verses should be made as are worthy of being anointed
with the oil of cedar, and kept in the well-polished cypress?
Poets wish either to profit or to delight; or to deliver at once both
the pleasures and the necessaries of life. Whatever precepts you give,
be concise; that docile minds may soon comprehend what is said, and
faithfully retain it. All superfluous instructions flow from the too
full memory. Let what ever is imagined for the sake of entertainment,
have as much likeness to truth as possible; let not your play demand
belief for whatever [absurdities] it is inclinable [to exhibit]: nor
take out of a witch's belly a living child that she had dined upon. The
tribes of the seniors rail against every thing that is void of
edification: the exalted knights disregard poems which are austere. He
who joins the instructive with the agreeable, carries off every vote, by
delighting and at the same time admonishing the reader. This book gains
money for the Sosii; this crosses the sea, and continues to its renowned
author a lasting duration.
Yet there are faults, which we should be ready to pardon: for neither
does the string [always] form the sound which the hand and conception
[of the performer] intends, but very often returns a sharp note when he
demands a flat; nor will the bow always hit whatever mark it threatens.
But when there is a great majority of beauties in a poem, I will not be
offended with a fe
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