amerlane, he intended to characterise King William, and Louis the
Fourteenth under Bajazet. The virtues of Tamerlane seem to have been
arbitrarily assigned him by his poet, for I know not that history gives
any other qualities than those which make a conqueror. The fashion,
however, of the time was to accumulate upon Louis all that can raise
horror and detestation; and whatever good was withheld from him, that
it might not be thrown away was bestowed upon King William. This was the
tragedy which Rowe valued most, and that which probably, by the help of
political auxiliaries, excited most applause; but occasional poetry must
often content itself with occasional praise. Tamerlane has for a long
time been acted only once a year, on the night when King William landed.
Our quarrel with Louis has been long over; and it now gratifies neither
zeal nor malice to see him painted with aggravated features, like a
Saracen upon a sign.

The Fair Penitent, his next production (1703), is one of the most
pleasing tragedies on the stage, where it still keeps its turns of
appearing, and probably will long keep them, for there is scarcely any
work of any poet at once so interesting by the fable, and so delightful
by the language. The story is domestic, and therefore easily received
by the imagination, and assimilated to common life; the diction is
exquisitely harmonious, and soft or sprightly as occasion requires.

The character of Lothario seems to have been expanded by Richardson into
Lovelace; but he has excelled his original in the moral effect of the
fiction. Lothario, with gaiety which cannot be hated, and bravery which
cannot be despised, retains too much of the spectator's kindness. It
was in the power of Richardson alone to teach us at once esteem and
detestation, to make virtuous resentment overpower all the benevolence
which wit, elegance, and courage, naturally excite; and to lose at last
the hero in the villain. The fifth act is not equal to the former; the
events of the drama are exhausted, and little remains but to talk of
what is past. It has been observed that the title of the play does not
sufficiently correspond with the behaviour of Calista, who at last
shows no evident signs of repentance, but may be reasonably suspected of
feeling pain from detection rather than from guilt, and expresses more
shame than sorrow, and more rage than shame.

His next (1706) was Ulysses; which, with the common fate of mythological
storie