t he may be left amiable to the audience, which
otherwise cannot have any concernment for his sufferings; and it is on
this one character, that the pity and terror must be principally, if
not wholly, founded: a rule which is extremely necessary, and which
none of the critics, that I know, have fully enough discovered to us.
For terror and compassion work but weakly when they are divided into
many persons. If Creon had been the chief character in "OEdipus,"
there had neither been terror nor compassion moved; but only
detestation of the man, and joy for his punishment; if Adrastus and
Eurydice had been made more appearing characters, then the pity had
been divided, and lessened on the part of OEdipus. But making OEdipus
the best and bravest person, and even Jocasta but an underpart to him,
his virtues, and the punishment of his fatal crime, drew both the
pity, and the terror to himself.

By what has been said of the manners, it will be easy for a reasonable
man to judge, whether the characters be truly or falsely drawn in a
tragedy; for if there be no manners appearing in the characters, no
concernment for the persons can be raised; no pity or horror can be
moved, but by vice or virtue; therefore, without them, no person can
have any business in the play. If the inclinations be obscure, it is a
sign the poet is in the dark, and knows not what manner of man he
presents to you; and consequently you can have no idea, or very
imperfect, of that man; nor can judge what resolutions he ought to
take; or what words or actions are proper for him. Most comedies, made
up of accidents or adventures, are liable to fall into this error; and
tragedies with many turns are subject to it; for the manners can never
be evident, where the surprises of fortune take up all the business of
the stage; and where the poet is more in pain, to tell you what
happened to such a man, than what he was. It is one of the
excellencies of Shakespeare, that the manners of his persons are
generally apparent; and you see their bent and inclinations. Fletcher
comes far short of him in this, as indeed he does almost in every
thing. There are but glimmerings of manners in most of his comedies,
which run upon adventures; and in his tragedies, Rollo, Otto, the King
and no King, Melantius, and many others of his best, are but pictures
shown you in the twilight; you know not whether they resemble vice or
virtue, and they are either good, bad, or indifferent, as the pr