me to discover.
I think I don't speak improperly when I call you a _lover_ of poetry; for
it is very well known she has been a very kind mistress to you: she has
not denied you the last favour, and she has been fruitful to you in a
most beautiful issue. If I break off abruptly here, I hope everybody
will understand that it is to avoid a commendation which, as it is your
due, would be most easy for me to pay, and too troublesome for you to
receive.

I have since the acting of this play harkened after the objections which
have been made to it, for I was conscious where a true critic might have
put me upon my defence. I was prepared for the attack, and am pretty
confident I could have vindicated some parts and excused others; and
where there were any plain miscarriages, I would most ingenuously have
confessed 'em. But I have not heard anything said sufficient to provoke
an answer. That which looks most like an objection does not relate in
particular to this play, but to all or most that ever have been written,
and that is soliloquy. Therefore I will answer it, not only for my own
sake, but to save others the trouble, to whom it may hereafter be
objected.

I grant that for a man to talk to himself appears absurd and unnatural,
and indeed it is so in most cases; but the circumstances which may attend
the occasion make great alteration. It oftentimes happens to a man to
have designs which require him to himself, and in their nature cannot
admit of a confidant. Such for certain is all villainy, and other less
mischievous intentions may be very improper to be communicated to a
second person. In such a case, therefore, the audience must observe
whether the person upon the stage takes any notice of them at all or no.
For if he supposes any one to be by when he talks to himself, it is
monstrous and ridiculous to the last degree. Nay, not only in this case,
but in any part of a play, if there is expressed any knowledge of an
audience, it is insufferable. But otherwise, when a man in soliloquy
reasons with himself, and _pro's_ and _con's_, and weighs all his
designs, we ought not to imagine that this man either talks to us or to
himself; he is only thinking, and thinking such matter as were
inexcusable folly in him to speak. But because we are concealed
spectators of the plot in agitation, and the poet finds it necessary to
let us know the whole mystery of his contrivance, he is willing to inform
us of this person's tho